TANCREDI: 

A  TALE  OF  THE  OPERA 
21  Nouel. 


BY 

DR.     E.    ALLEN    WOOD. 


NEW      YORK: 

G.     W.     Dillingham,    Publisher, 

SUCCESSOR  TO  G.  W.  CARLETON  &  Co. 
MDCCCLXXXVIII. 

!  $ 


Copyright,  1887, 

BY 

E.  ALLtA>  WOOD. 


[All  Bights  Reserved.] 


STEREOTYPE!)  BY 

SAMTJSI.  STODDEK, 

42  DKT  STRKET.N.  Y. 


CONTENTS. 


PART  FIRST. 

Page 

LEX  TALIONIS •        •      & 

PART  SECOND. 
FIDES  PUNICA 104 

PART  THIRD. 

DIES  IRAE 873 

[iii] 


2046154 


TANCREDI: 

A   TALE    OF   THE   OPERA. 


PAET    FIRST. 
LEX  TALIONIS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  Our  acts  are  our  angels,  or  good  or  ill, 
Our  fatal  shadows  that  walk  by  us  still." 

"  IT  is  Jarl,  the  Miller's  Boy." 

"  Good  for  him  !  served  him  right !  It'll  learn  him 
to  sneak  in  another  time  where  he's  not  wanted !" 

"  How  cruel  of  yon  to  say  that !  Poor  boy  !  See 
his  arm  all  torn  and  bloody  !" 

"  Let  him  stay  where  he  belongs,  and  the  dog  won't 
bite  him." 

"  How  do  you  know  but  what  he  came  on  business 

CKJ 


6  TANCREDI. 

with  Mr.  Bellim  ?  And  even  if  he  didn't,  its  wicked 
to  have  him  bitten  by  that  nasty  brute." 

"  That's  what  the  dog's  for." 

-  "  Well,  1  don't  want  any  savage  dog  about  our 
house  to  tear  harmless  children  who  may  come  into  the 
yard." 

"  Children  !  Why,  Jarl's  as  old  as  I  am ;  he's  fif- 
teen, at  least." 

"  Humph  1  And  what  are  you  but  a  lad  ?  I'd  like 
to  know." 

"  Well,  I'm  old  enough  to  know  better  than  to  go 
where  I  an't  wanted." 

"  And  Pm.  old  enough  to  know  that  it  is  a  cruel 
shame  to  have  a  boy  bitten  by  a  dog  as  Jaii  is  ;  and  it's 
wicked  in  you  to  say  '  served  him  right.' " 

The  young  people  who  carried  on  this  conversation 
were  Caspar  Liftal,  aged  fifteen,  and  Charlotte  Duval, 
aged  twelve. 

The  occasion  was  a  children's  lawn  party,  given  at 
the  residence  of  Frederick  Relliin,  on  the  thirteenth 
anniversary  of  his  daughter's  birthday. 

In  the  midst  of  the  juvenille  festivities,  a  terrible 
cry  was  heard, — a  cry  of  distress,  accompanied  by  the 
angry  barking  of  a  dog, — in  the  direction  of  the  front, 
lawn,  where  the  curious  children  ran  in  time  to  see  the 
gardener  dragging  and  beating  off  the  large  house  mas- 
-tiff,  which  ferociously  attacked  a  lad  that  had  stepped 


TANCREDI.  7 

inside  the  front  gate.  The  fortunate  rescue  by  the 
gardener  saved  the  victim  from  being  torn  to  pieces. 

The  wounded  youth,  Jarl  the  Miller's  Boy,  as  he 
was  called,  was  raised  to  his  feet,  and  it  was  found 
that  his  right  arm  was  frightfully  lacerated. 

His  face  was  ashy  pale,  but  he  uttered  no  word  of 
distress.  There  was  something  wicked  and  startling 
in  the  proud  bearing  of  his  compact,  graceful  form, 
blemished  though  it  was  by  torn  garb  and  mangled 
arm.  There  was  a  look  of  mingled  hate  and  defiance 
iu  his  pallid  face  as  he  glared  on  the  fierce  brute  now 
being  dragged  away  by  the  servant, — a  look  so  strik- 
ing in  its  wild  brave  beauty  that  would  attract  the 
attention  of  the  most  indifferent  looker-on. 

His  head  was  uncovered,  and  the  black  hair  fell  in 
tangled  curls  over  eyes  dark  as  night.  His  dress  was 
torn  away  at  the  throat,  leaving  the  bosom  bare,  and 
through  the  pallor  could  be  seen  that  dusky  hue  pecu- 
liar to  natives  of  Southern  climes. 

Jarl  the  Miller's  Boy,  was  a  notorious  character  in 
the  neighborhood.  He  was  noted  for  his  wonderful 
beauty,  for  his  wickedness,  for  his  courage,  and  for  the 
mystery  connected  with  his  advent  into  the  settlement. 

"  Are  ye  mooch  hurted,  lad?"  asked  the  gardener. 
"  Better  coome  to  the  'ouse  un  'ev  yer  arm  tied  hup." 

The  wondering  children  gathered  into  a  following 
group  as  the  servant,  leading  Jarl,  went  to  the  honse. 


8  TANCREDI. 

Charlotte  Duval  and  Caspar  Leftal  fell  in  at  the  rear 
of  the  advancing  column,  while  they  carried  on  the 
conversation  narrated  at  the  opening  of  this  chapter. 

It  was  the  custom,  as  it  was  felt  to  be  the  duty,  of 
the  good  people  of  the  community  to  speak  ill  of  Jarl. 
His  spirited  and  combative  ways  gave  them  abundant 
pretext  and  occasion  for  saying  evil  things  of  him  and 
for  treating  him  shamefully  also.  There  were  few 
persons  around  who  did  not  conscientiously  believe 
that  he  merited  all  he  got — avoidance,  frowns,  kicks, 
and  a  bad  name. 

Jarl  was  accordingly  used  as  a  standing  moral  text, 
somewhat  as  Satan  was  once  used,  to  instil  into  the 
minds  of  all  children  a  wholesome  dread  of  evil  doing. 
He  was  a  social  beacon  flashing  out  the  red  lights  of 
sin  and  folly,  warning  good  boys  and  girls  to  steer  clear 
of  his  dangerous  soundings. 

Hence  it  was  that  Master  Caspar  Liftal  took  sides 
against  the  unfortunate  youth. 

Caspar  was  not  at  heart  a  bad  boy ;  lie  was  not  bet- 
ter or  worse  than  the  average  boy,  but  he  was,  what 
his  surroundings  made  him,  an  enemy  of  Jarl.  The 
opinion  of  Caspar's  parents,  as  well  as  that  of  the 
neighbors,  was  that  the  Miller's  Boy  should  be  howled 
down  the  winds,  and  accordingly  Caspar  felt  it  his 
duty  to  raise  his  voice  in  denunciation  of  the  wicked 
youth. 


TANCREDI.  9 

Why  Charlotte  Duval  did  not  join  in  the  chorus  of 
the  villifiers  is  a  mystery.  Her  action  in  this  belongs 
to  the  anomalous  class  of  instances  wherein  a  child  will 
not  always  walk  in  the  beaten  way  !  Why  she  took 
up  the  cudgel  in  his  behalf  deepens  the  mystery.  She 
herself  could  riot  have  accounted  for  her  behavior  at 
the  time ;  she  could  not  have  even  justified  her  course, 
for  had  she  not,  time  and  again,  heard  of  Jarl's  wick- 
edness ? 

When  they  reached  the  hall  entrance,  they  were 
met  by  Mr.  Rellim,  who  inquired  what  the  trouble 
was. 

"  The  lad  been  hurted  by  Blucher,  Sir.  See  'is 
arm  ;  and  he  needs  summat  to  tie  it  hup." 

"  Where  did  this  happen  ?"  asked  Kellim. 

"  On  the  fronten  lawn,  Sir." 

"  What  business  has  he  on  my  lawn  ?  Poaching,  I 
suppose;  stealing  flowers?,  eh!  Or,  maybe  he  was 
cheeky  enough  to  join  the  children's  party  !  Let  him 
go  home  and  get  his  arm  tied  up." 

Charlotte  Duval  had  instinctively  crowded  her  way 
to  the  front  while  Rellim  was  speaking,  impelled  by 
sympathy  for  the  suffering  and  abused  boy.  She 
begged  Rellim  not  to  act  so  unfeelingly. 

"  O  let  him  rest  before  you  send  him  off,  Sir, 
please.  See  his  arm  how  it  is  torn  and  how  it  bleeds  ! 
See  how  pale  he  is !  Have  mercy  !  Please,  Sir,  allow 


10  TANCREDI. 

James   to   dress    his    arm,"    cried    the    sympathetic 

maiden. 

"  I  want  no  beggar's  leavings  about  my  premises," 
exclaimed  the  host  in  a  passion.  "  James,  lead  him  to 
the  gate  and  drive  him  off." 

After  giving  this  brutal  order,  JJellim  turned  and 
entered  the  house. 

Jurl  raised  his  sound  arm  as  if  to  salute  Charlotte, 
and  looked  at  her  the  thanks  his  tongue  was  unable  to 
utter.  He  then  turned  in  the  path,  took  a  step  for- 
ward, his  head  fell  on  his  breast,  his  legs  bent  under 
him  and  he  fell  to  the  ground  in  a  swoon. 

"He  has  fainted!"  cried  Charlotte,  kneeling  at  his 
side.  "Bring  water,  some  one — quick  !" 

One  of  the  boys  brought  cold  water  from  the  near 
spring,  which  was  dashed  in  the  face  of  the  uncon- 
scious lad,  when  lie  opened  his  eyes  and  was  once  more 
raised  to  his  feet. 

One  of  the  children  had  recovered  his  cap,  and 
now  handed  it  to  him.  From  its  lining  he  took  a  note 
addressed  to  Frederick  Eellim,  and  gave  it  to  the 
servant.  Jarl  uttered  no  word,  but  with  a  bewildered 
stare,  seen  in  sleep-walkers,  he  slowly  went  out  into 
the  public  highway.  Charlotte  Duval  followed  close 
after  him,  begging  that  she  might  render  him  some 
assistance. 


TANCREDI.  11 

"I  want  a  drink  of  water,  please,"  he  gently  said, 
after  lie  reached  the  public  road. 

She  brought  him  the  drink,  while  he  sat  on  the 
roadside  and  waited. 

These  attentions  of  Charlotte  toward  one  who  was 
looked  on  as  an  outlaw,  again  brought  the  young 
people  around  Jarl,  some  of  whom  seemed  inclined  to 
second  Charlotte's  kindness,  while  others,  like  Caspar, 
sneered  at  her  work  and  insulted  the  miserable  boy. 
She  paid  no  attention  to  their  jeers,  but  took  from  her 
shoulders  a  scarf  and  wound  it  about  the  boy's  arm 
and  neck,  improvising  a  dressing  in  which  the  injured 
limb  was  comfortably  supported. 

"He'll  keep  your  scarf!  You'll  never  see  it 
again,"  exclaimed  Caspar. 

Charlotte's  face  flushed  with  anger  as  she  turned 
and  frowned  on  the  cruel  speaker. 

"  Would  you  like  to  keep  the  scarf,  Jarl  ?"  she 
asked,  turning  toward  him  with  kindness  in  voice  and 
face. 

"  And  will  you  give  it  me  ?"  he  replied,  while  a 
pleased  smile  lit  up  his  wan  face. 

"Why  should  you  like  to  keep  my  scarf?"  asked 
Charlotte,  tenderly. 

Jarl  made  no  reply.  He  hung  his  head,  while  the 
tears  welled  in  his  eyes  and  flowed  down  his  pallid 
cheeks. 


13  TANCREDT. 

"  Keep  it,  Jarl.  Yes,  keep  it ;  I  give  it  you,"  cried 
the  girl,  touched  by  his  distress. 

"  His  mother  taught  him  to  beg  ;  that's  his  trade," 
said  Caspar. 

Some,  not  all,  laughed  at  his  malignant  witticism. 

"  Your  mother  has  not  taught  you  to  be  a  gentle- 
man," cried  Charlotte,  now  throughly  aroused  with 
anger. 

"Mv  mother's  as  good  as  yours,"  retorted  Caspar. 

"  Quick  as  a  flash,  Jarl  was  at  Charlotte's  side,  and 
terrible  was  the  look  he  gave  Caspar  Liftal,  who  slunk 
away  like  a  whipped  cur. 

The  brutal  taunts  of  Caspar  affected  one  thing — they 
dispersed  all  regret  at  having  parted  with  her  scarf. 
She  was  glad  to  see  it  on  the  boy's  neck,  proud  that  it 
became  him  so  well,  and  exultant  because  all  could  see 
him  wearing  it. 

The  brutal  treatment  of  Kellim  toward  the  wounded 
boy  had  aroused  her  compassion  ;  the  jeers  of  her  com- 
panions had  aroused  her  indignation,  and  Charlotte 
Duval,  the  tender  maiden,  took  the  first  step  which 
woman  takes  when  she  follows  man  into  crime  or  exile. 

Jarl  lifted  his  cap  to  her,  and,  oblivious  of  others, 
walked  slowly  away. 

Charlotte,  the  inchoate  woman,  followed  him  with 
her  eyes  until  he  was  lost  to  view,  when  she,  too, 
departed  unceremoniously  for  her  home. 

The  scarf  which  Charlotte  gave  Jarl  was  unique, 


TANCREDI.  13 

and,  as  it  may  possibly  require  identification  hereafter, 
the  reader's  attention  is  directed  to  a  crimson  silk  scarf 
with  a  heart  and  anchor  in  white  silk  embroidered  in 
either  end.  It  was  a  present  from  her  aunt,  and  which 
she  admired  with  all  a  girl's  passion  for  any  beautiful 
article  of  dress.  It  was  yielding  much  when  she 
wound  it  about  Jarl's  arm ;  it  was  parting  with  a  toilet 
idol  when  she  bade  him  keep  it. 


14  TANCREDI. 


CHAPTER  II. 

"  Chance  rules  all  above, 

And  sliuffles,  with  a  random  hand,  the  lots 

Which  men  are  forced  to  draw." 

THE  note  brought  by  Jaii  was  carried  by  the  ser- 
vant into  the  house,  but  the  master  to  whom  it  was 
addressed  was  gone,  no  one  knew  whither.  It  was  two 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  before  he  came  in  from  the 
back  fields  of  his  farm.  He  then  read  the  note.  From 
his  actions  it  must  have  been  an  exciting  note.  He 
was  so  strongly  moved  by  its  contents  that  he  siezed 
his  hat  and  rushed  off  to  the  stable,  yelling  for  his 
coachman  at  every  jump.  In  a  brief  space  he  was 
mounted  and  galloping  toward  Pittsburgh,  four  miles 
away. 

His  daughter  was  curious  to  know  the  contents  of 
that  note,  which  he  dropped  in  his  mad  haste,  and  read 
what  follows  : 

PITTSBURGH,  June,  28th  18 — . 
FREDERICK  RELLIM. 

SIR:  The  Plow  and  Anvil  bank  will  suspend 
this  day.  This  information  is  authentic  and  reliable. 
Get  your  money  out  as  quick  as  you  can. 

AARON  FULMORE. 


TANCREDI.  15 

"When  Rellitn  arrived  at  the  bank  he  found  an 
excited  crowd  gathered  about  its  closed  doors,  on  which 
was  placarded  the  stereotyped  explanation  usually 
pasted  on  recently  collapsed  financial  institutions.  The 
assemblage  surged  and  jostled  each  other  in  their 
frenzy  to  get  near  enough  to  read  that  notice ;  and 
those  who  did  read  it  swallowed  the  statement  with  as 
keen  a  satisfaction  as  though  it  really  meant  anything 
honest,  or  was  an  endorsed  and  secured  promise  to  pay 
all  liabilities  whatsoever.  Reliim  was  furious,  nor  was 
he  appeased  by  reading  the  hope-inspiring  placard. 

"  How  long  has  the  bank  been  closed  ?"  he  asked  a 
bystander. 

"  Xot  over  an  hour." 

Reliim  had  on  deposit  in  the  broken  bank  about 
twenty  thousand  dollars.  The  amount  was  not  large 
for  a  man  of  his  reputed  wealth  ;  at  most  it  would  not 
have  been  large  in  ordinary  times.  But  at  this  special 
time  it  was  likely  to  be  a  very  critical  sum.  He  had 
recently  purchased  an  immense  tract  of  coal  lands,  and 
this  money  was  held  in  reserve  as  a  part  of  the  final 
payment  of  the  same,  and  which  payment  came  due 
on  the  first  of  the  ensuing  July,  a  few  days  from  that 
time. 

He  met  a  director  of  the  collapsed  bank,  Mr.  Ful- 
more,  one  of  his  most  intimate  and  trusted  friends. 


16  TANCHEDI. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  the  Plow  and  Anvil  ?" 
he  asked  the  director. 

"  It's  gone  up,  I  fear,  for  good.  We  had  a  heavy 
run  on  us  yesterday,  but  thought  to  squeeze  through, 
until  the  Baltimore  Company  went  for  us  this  morn- 
ing, wicked.  But  I'm  glad  you  got  your  money  out, 
old  fellow." 

"  But  I  did  not  get  my  money  out." 

"Not  get  your  money  out!  What  do  you  tell 
me?  Why,  as  soon  as  I  got  an  inkling  of  the  Balti- 
more's game  I  wrote  }7ou  a  note  of  warning,  and 
posted  it  off  to  you  in  haste." 

"  Yes;  well,  I  got  that  note,  but  I  didn't  get  it  till 
two  o'clock." 

"The  very  minute  the  bank  closed  its  door! 
What  happened  that  you  did  not  get  the  word  earlier  ? 
I  started  it  off  at  ten  this  morning.  I  gave  it  to  Jarl, 
the  Miller's  Boy,  who  was  going  your  way." 

"  Well,  he  brought  the  note  all  right,  but,  curse 
my  luck,  he  was  met  by  my  watch  dog  and  pretty 
badly  used  up.  I  didn't  know  the  young  vagabond 
had  a  letter  for  me,  and  so  I  ordered  him  off  my 
premises.  I'll  thank  you  to  send  your  letters  by  a 
trusty  messenger  another  time." 

"  How  came  it  that  he  did  not  deliver  the  note  at 
the  time  you  drove  him  away  2" 

"  Oh,  that  wouldn't  be  Jarl !     I  suppose  the  young 


TANCREDI.  17 

beggar  was  offended- at  what  I  said.  When  I  told  my 
servant  to  turn  him  out  the  gate,  I  left  the  house  and 
went  across  the  fields  to  the  back  of  my  farm,  and  did 
not  return  till  two.  Then  I  read  the  note." 

A  brief  investigation  into  the  affairs  of  the  Plow 
and  Anvil  disclosed  the  fact  that  it  was  hopelessly 
insolvent, — it  would  not  pay  one  per  cent. 

Of  course,  as  usual  in  like  cases,  many  attempts 
were  made  through  many  years  in  the  courts  to 
squeeze  blood  out  of  the  shrunk  turnip, — and  some 
blood  was  drawn  from  other  sources,  but  it,  all  went 
into  the  veins  of  constables  and  lawyers. 

It  has  already  been  remarked  that  the  peculiar 
crisis  in  Rellim's  affairs  at  this  particular  time  was 
likely  to  make  the  loss  of  his  deposit  embarrassing; 
but  it  was  not  feared  that  it  would  involve  him 
ruinously. 

The  adage,  "  Misfortune  comes  not  singly,"  is  gen- 
erally painfully  exemplified  when  a  bank  breaks. 
Kellim  felt  all  the  force  and  bitterness  of  the  saying 
after  the  collapse  of  the  Plow  and  Anvil.  A  large 
amount  belonging  to  his  debtors  was  likewise  lost  by 
the  failure,  some  of  his  heaviest  debtors  were  driven 
into  bankruptcy  thereby,  and  it  turned  out  that, 
directly  and  indirectly,  his  loss  in  the  aggregate  was 
enormous.  But  even  then  he  might  have  weathered 
the  storm,  were  it  not  for  a  fresh  misfortune— the 


18  TANCREDI. 

oppression  by  the  Baltimore  Company.  Active  com- 
petion  in  buying  coal  lands  was  at  that  time  lively  in 
Allegheny  county,  and  when  the  Baltimore  Company 
learned  of  Itellim's  straightened  circumstances,  that 
company  saw  in  it  the  opportunity  to  drive  an  active 
competitor  to  the  wall.  Accordingly,  that  powerful 
corporation  brought  up  his  paper  wherever  it  could, 
got  possession  of  some  heavy  claims  against  him, 
refused  to  extend  his  obligations,  and  the  result  was 
that  Frederick  Rellim,  who  was  considered  one  of  the 
most  substantial  capitalists  of  the  county,  was  driven 
into  bankruptcy  and  into  financial  ruin. 

In  four  months  from  the  time  when  he  branded 
Jarl  a  beggar  and  thrust  him  from  his  gate,  he  him- 
self passed  out  that  same  gate  a  beggar. 


TANCREDI.  19 


CHAPTER  III. 

"I  love  everything  that's  old.  Old  friends,  old  times,  old 
manners,  old  wine." 

JAEL  lay  for  weeks  at  the  Old  Mill  waiting  for  his 
wounds  to  heal. 

The  Old  Mill  stood  on  the  river  bank,  and  was 
driven  by  the  current  of  the  creek  which  flowed  into 
the  larger  stream  at  that  point. 

The  old  mill !  Not  solely  the  appellation  of  age, 
not  the  measure  of  time,  but  the  title  of  endearment, 
of  wonder  and  sympathy ; — the  name  we  bestow  on 
familiar  objects  where  romance  steps  in  to  invest  them 
with  sentiment,  and  breathe  into  them  the  spirit  of 
poesy. 

We  call  a  familiar  friend  our  old  friend  ;  the  natal 
spot  our  old  home;  the  years  that  have  flown  the 
olden  time,  and  the  mill  from  whence  we  brought  the 
grist,  the  old  mill. 

The  old  mill  stood  like  a  huge  cornucopia  empty- 
ing its  plenty  into  the  lap  of  the  smiling  valley.  Its 
ponderous  driving  wheel,  creaking  and  groaning  as  it 
turned  with  the  rush  of  waters,  was  more  wonderful 


20  TANCREDI. 

and  less  fickle  than  the  wheel  of  Fortuna.  The 
crunching  stones  of  flint  and  granite  turned  out  flakes 
as  soft  and  white  as  the  new  fallen  snow.  It  ^vas 
Titan  battling  against  famine. 

Society  lost  one  of  its  household  deities  when  the 
old  mill  was  dismantled.  No  more  trips  on  old 
"  Fly,"  with  a  bushel  of  corn  in  one  end  of  the  bag 
and  Btone  ballast  in  the  other.  No  more  we  watch 
with  distrust  the  miller  paying  his  toll,  never  again 
shall  we  see  the  warm  stream  of  yellow  meal  pouring 
from  the  trembling  hopper.  These  incidents  are 
numbered  with  the  lost  arts.  And  the  Indian  pudding 
our  mother's  were  won't  to  make,  it,  too,  is  gone  with 
the  mill  that  ground  the  golden  grain. 

The  miller  himself  was  a  conspicuous  character  in 
those  days  of  the  olden  times. 

The  miller  who  drew  the  floodgate  and  tolled  the 
grists  at  the  old  mill  was  named  Nate  Jackman.  He 
was  about  sixty,  was  hale  and  hearty,  with  the  rose- 
tinted  skin  flushing  through  the  coating  of  flour  dust, 
like  the  bloom  of  the  peach  glowing  through  its 
down. 

Nate  was  attached  to  the  old  mill,  from  which  he 
had  not  been  absent  a  day  since  he  had  followed  his 
wife  to  her  last  resting  place  ten  years  agone.  His 
cottage  stood  in  the  mill  yard,  and  was  presided  over 
by  his  daughter  and  only  child,  Miss  Prudence,  now  a 


TANCREDI.  21 

trim  and  tidy  woman  of  live  and  twenty.  Kate  had 
never  been  blessed  with  other  children,  but  had 
adopted  Jarl  when  he  was  only  three  years  old. 
Accordingly  Jarl  had  been  the  miller's  boy  for  twelve 
years. 

Jarl  was  the  mystery  of  the  neighborhood ;  but 
the  miller  loved  the  boy  with  all  that  corner  of  the 
heart  left  empty  when  there  is  no  boy  to  till  it. 

Mrs.  Jackman  loved  and  petted  him  for  the  two 
years  preceding  her  death,  and  Prudence  loved  him 
fondly  and  devotedly.  The  public,  as  we  have  seen, 
held  him  at  arms  length  as  they  would  a  gypsy  out- 
law. 

Who  was  Jarl  ? 

This  question  puzzled  the  curious  neighbors  until 
the  unsolved  problem  became  as  painfully  mysterious 
as  the  enigma  of  the  Sphynx,  or  the  Man  with  the 
Iron  Mask. 


TANCKEDI. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"A  millstone  and  the  human  heart, 

Are  ever  driven  round, 
If  they  have  nothing  else  to  grind, 
They  must  themselves  be  ground." 

IT  was  one  of  those  days  peculiar  to  October  in 
North  America.  The  lack-lustre  sun  glimmered  low 
in  the  smoky  sky,  and  sluggishly  swung  round  the 
horizon  all  day  long.  As  it  sank  towards  its  nebulous 
couch,  aweary  with  its  ineffectual  effort  to  dispel  the 
murky  atmosphere,  and  willing  to  draw  the  curtain  of 
night  over  the  melancholy  desolation,  brooding  over 
bronzed  fields  and  seared  leaves,  a  woman  leading  a 
child,  entered  the  miller's  gate  and  sat  on  the  porch 
steps  evidently  well  nigh  exhausted. 

Mrs.  Jackman  who  saw  the  approach  of  the 
strangers,  went  out  and  invited  the  forlorn  creature  to 
enter  the  house. 

"  No,  no,  no  1  Michele  says  I  must  go  away,"  she 
replied  in  a  sad  voice  and  foreign  accent.  "  But  once 
more  to  hear  him  sing,  I  must — just  once  more." 

"Why,  good  woman,  the  child's  asleep,  see! 
Besides  he's  only  a  babe,  and  cannot  sing ;  come  in, 


TANCREDI.  23 

come  in,  poor  soul,  do?"  said  the  matron  sooth- 
ingly. 

"  But  I  tell  you  he's  going  away— far  away  to 
Italy — far  away  ;  and  him  to  behold  I  never  shall 
again." 

The  miller's  wife  now  saw  that  the  stranger  was 
not  quite  right  in  her  head,  and  her  sympathy  for  the 
wretched  being  was  made  keener  thereby. 

The  scene  was  one  of  pensive  beauty  as  it  was  of 
touching  interest.  It  was  a  rare  picture,  felt  perhaps 
by  inspiration,  but  never  seen  on  canvas ;  a  picture 
where  joy  and  beauty  blended  with  misery  and  dis- 
tress, and  where  nature  complemented  human  sadness 
with  its  spirit  of  melancholy.  Imagination,  glowing 
as  it  maybe,  will  not  quite  invent  that  grouping  on 
the  miller's  porch.  The  grassy  yard  was  strewn  with 
the  faded  leaves  of  autumn  ;  in  the  distance  the  dim 
hills  lost  their  bold  outlines  in  the  commingling  dim- 
ness of  sky,  while  the  brazen  sun  paled  in  the  smoke 
of  the  Indian  summer.  In  the  foreground  sat  the 
strange  woman  with  the  sleeping  child  on  her  lap, 
while  the  tidy  housewife  bent  over  them  with  pity 
and  solicitude. 

The  bared  limbs  of  the  child  were  of  the  most 
beautiful  proportions,  while  the  skin  was  so  dark  as  to 
evince  that  it  was  a  stranger  to  the  clime  as  it  was  to 
the  neighborhood.  The  complexion  of  the  woman 


Si  TANCREDI. 

was  darker  still.  She  was  young  and  still  beautiful, 
despite  the  haggard  despair  which  settled  on  form  and 
feature.  Her  form  was  slight  though  elegant,  and 
clad  in  what  had  evidently  been  rich  material ;  but  her 
dress  was  stained  and  disordered  as  if  from  travel  and 
exposure.  Her  face  was  startling  in  its  expression, 
every  lineament  of  which  betokened  lurking  passion 
and  despair.  The  weird  black  eyes  looked  the  agony 
and  insanity  to  which  her  speech  gave  utterance. 

Her  behavior  was  sad  and  subdued,  rather  than 
violent,  and  she  seemed  to  invite  pity  and  protection 
by  her  gentle  demeanor.  Her  forlorn  condition 
would  have  melted  hearts  more  obdurate  than  Mrs. 
Jackman's,  who  tenderly  took  the  child  in  her  arms 
and  led  the  pliant  mad- woman  into  the  house. 

The  hostess  plied  her  guest  with  many  questions, 
to  some  of  which  she  gave  rational  answers  ;  but  all 
inquiries  relating  to  her  home,  or  friends,  or  name, 
were  evaded  or  responded  to  irrelevantly. 

The  resemblance  which  existed  between  her  and 
the  child  was  alluded  to,  but  she  persistently  denied 
being  its  mother,  while  Mrs.  Jackman  as  persistently 
held  to  the  belief  that  she  was  caring  for  a  mother 
and  her  child. 

She  talked  much  of  music  and  the  opera,  all  of 
which  was  the  vagaries  of  insanity  to  the  simple 
miller's  family.  She  sometimes  addressed  a  familiar 


TANCREDI.  25 

friend  in  a  strange  tongue,  or  sang  songs  in  the  same 
unknown  language. 

Her  attachment  to  the  child  was  something  won- 
derful as  it  was  pathetic,  and  confirmed  the  wife  in 
the  belief  that  the  woman  was  really  the  child's 
mother.  She  would  hold  him  to  her  breast  and  caress 
him  in  the  most  affectionate  manner,  call  him  the 
most  endearing  names,  or  sing  him  to  sleep,  when  she 
would  hold  him  for  hours,  careful  not  to  awake  him. 
She  called  him  Carl,  which,  with  the  accent  she  gave 
it,  sounded  like  Jarl  to  the  family,  the  name  they 
bestowed  on  him. 

On  the  first  night  of  her  stay  at  the  cottage  she 
persisted  in  taking  the  child  from  the  soft  white  bed 
where  it  slept,  and  holding  it  in  her  arms  ;  but  when 
Mrs.  Jackman  protested  by  replacing  the  lad  in  bed, 
she  would  stand  over  him  rocking  herself  to  and  fro, 
talking  to  him  in  a  coaxing,  cooing  voice,  or  singing  to 
him  in  a  low,  soothing  strain.  Mrs.  Jackman  was  so 
moved  at  the  sight  that  she  pushed  the  demented 
woman  into  the  rocking  chair  and  placed  the  child  in 
her  lap,  which  employment  completely  satisfied  the 
poor  creature. 

But  she  did  not  sleep.  Days  and  nights  went 
round,  but  she  ate  none  nor  closed  her  eyes  in  slum- 
ber. She  drank  almost  constantly  large  quantities  of 
water,  as  if  for  an  unquenchable  thirst.  When  asked 


2C  TANC'REDI. 

if  she  felt  ill  she  would  shake  her  head  and  place  her 
hand  over  her  heart. 

A  crisis  of  some  kind  was  evidently  drawing  n'gh. 
One  morning,  after  a  more  than  usually  restless  night, 
she  suddenly  fell  in  a  violent  fit,  when  the  physician 
was  sent  for.  She  was  placed  in  her  bed  and  remedies 
supplied  her,  but  she  refused  to  swallow  anything  but 
water.  She  never  rose  from  that  bed. 

She  sang  no  more ;  her  speech  was  affected  by  the 
fit,  but  her  concern  for  the  child  abated  not.  She 
noticed  no  one  but  it,  and  was  only  satisfied  when  the 
little  fellow  was  resting  by  her  side.  He  seemed  best 
pleased  to  be  there,  and,  though  imagination  may 
have  unduly  worked  on  the  wife's  feelings,  yet  she  said 
the  child  seemed  to  know  that  its  friend  was  about  to 
leave  it  forever. 

The  little  thing  would  prattle  to  her  in  its  caress- 
ing way,  play  with  her  dark  tresses,  or  fall  asleep  with 
its  dimpled  arms  around  her  neck,  when  she  would  lie 
still  as  death,  lest  she  might  disturb  its  slumber.  The 
terrible,  despairing  black  eyes  were  ever  on  the 
watch  ;  no  sleep,  no  rest  came  to  the  lorn  worn  woman. 

Her  weakness  increased  day  by  day  until  another 
epileptic  convulsion  siezed  her  and  left  her  unconscious, 
breathing  hard  and  fast,  harder  and  faster,  until  even 
that  organic  function  ceased,  when  she  lay  calm  and 
still  with  her  cold  face  turned  toward  the  stars.  Two 


1A.NCREDI.  27 

staring  eyes  gazed  away  off  into  the  great  beyond, 
where  the  parting  soul  fled  from  passion,  disease  and 
sorrow. 

The  body  was  laid  away  under  the  tangled  elder 
bushes  of  the  lonely  country  graveyard.  Jarl,  the 
disconsolate,  raved  as  if  it,  too,  were  struck  with  rnad- 
ncss  when  they  carried  away  the  body  of  its  friend. 

The  Father  of  the  orphan  saw  the  exile  sparrow  fall- 
ing, falling,  and  he  inclined  the  hearts  of  the  miller's 
family  toward  the  homeless  waif.  Basking  in  the 
sunshine  of  their  affection  the  child  soon  forgot  the 
shadows  and  ceased  to  mourn  for  its  lost  companion. 

Among  the  few  effects  left  by  the  dead  woman 
there  was  little  which  gave  promise  of  clearing  up  the 
mystery,  and  nothing  that  would  lead  to  the  discovery 
of  the  boy's  name  or  parentage.  Three  miniatures 
were  found,  one  on  the  body  of  the  woman.  It  was 
the  portrait  of  a  very  distinguished  looking  man  ;  on 
its  back  was  the  single  written  word  "  Mickele."  A. 
locket  suspended  around  the  boy's  neck  contained  two 
miniatures  ;  one  of  these  was  the  portrait  of  the  same 
man  as  seen  in  the  single  miniature  ;  the  other  was  the 
likeness  of  a  woman,  but  so  defaced,  apparently 
designedly,  as  to  be  almost  undecipherable.  These, 
and  what  few  other  effects  that  might  lead  to  indentifi- 
cation,  were  taken  charge  of  by  the  Jackmans  and 
carefully  preserved. 


38  TANCREDI. 

And  this  was  all  that  was  known  of  the  name, 
family,  or  nativity  of  Jarl,  the  MiMer's  Boy. 

From  the  time  when  the  woman  and  child  were 
given  refuge  at  the  cottage  the  neighbors  took  a  lively 
interest  in  what  they  deemed  should  be  the  proper  dis- 
posal of  the  vagrants.  Wives  and  widows,  matrons 
and  maids,  and  females  of  all  grades,  many  of  whom 
had  never  before  visited  Mrs.  Jackman,  or  were  even 
unknown  to  her,  now  honored  her  with  calls,  and  with 
advice,  too,  prompted  by  their  sense  of  Christian  duty 
toward  their  neighbor  and  their  neighbor's  charge. 

Out  of  respect  for  the  consciences  of  these  duty 
hunters, — deluded  though  they  were  by  a  false  scent, 
— this  history  will  not  suggest  motives  far  from  com- 
mendable. It  is  true  that  in  their  conduct  there  lurks 
a  suspicion  of  Phariseeism,  moral  demagogry,  arid  pru- 
rient curiosity,  but  at  present  these  people  shall,  un- 
questioned and  unmolested,  indulge  in  their  similation 
of  philanthrophy,  regardless  of  motives  or  results. 
There  is  no  other  way  left.  It  must  be  taken  for 
granted  that  their  intentions  were  praise  wort  hv, 
viewed  at  least  as  they  viewed  them. 

And  they  believed  themselves  sincere,  and  in  so 
fur  were  sincere.  They  desired  to  reward  virtue, 
comfort  the  afflicted,  relieve  the  oppressed,  and  feed 
and  clothe  the  impoverished.  This  was  the  still 


TANCREDI.  29 

small  voice  of  their  minimum  faith — their  everyday 
religion 

But  they  possessed  a  heroic  faith  wherein  the 
louder  voices  of  wrath  and  vengeance  outthundered 
the  small  voice  of  common  duty  and  shook  the  moral 
Sinai  on  which  they  rested.  It  was  the  loud  thunder 
of  Retribution — the  decree  of  death  to  the  sinner. 

By  that  heroic  fiat  the  woman  and  child  were 
doomed.  She  was  the  scarlet  woman,  bereft  of  her 
reason  as  the  penalty,  and  Jarl  the  child  of  sin,  with 
the  rod  of  wrath  in  pickle  for  him.  Hence  respecta- 
bility gathered  up  its  undefiled  robes  and  moved  out  of 
their  contaminating  influences. 

The  unanimous  opinion,  voiced  like  hounds  in  full 
cry,  was  that  the  vagrants  should  be  sent  away. 

Where  ? 

To  the  poor  house. 

The  woman  is  too  ill  to  be  removed ;  besides  we 
are  willing  to  take  care  of  her. 

But  she  is  a  wicked  woman. 

Poor  soul !  she  is  crazy.  If  she  is  bad  it  is  not 
right  to  punish  her  now. 

But  the  child, — it  is  the  child  of  sin. 

We  know  not;  we  will  not  turn  it  away. 

The  sparrow  fell  not  to  the  ground. 

The  miller  gave  the  body  of  the  maniac  a  decent 


80  TANCREDI 

burial;  the  millers  wife  made  soft  raiment  for  the 
sparrow;  the  miller's  family,  in  spite  of  the  jeers  and 
protests  of  their  pious  and  indignant  neighbors,  found 
themselves  as  strongly  attached  to  Jarl  as  if  he  were 
of  their  own  flesh  and  blood. 


TANCREDI.  31 


CHAPTER  Y. 

"Feared,  shunned,  belied,  ere  youth  had  lost  its  force, 

He  hated  men  too  much  to  feel  remorse, 
And  thought  the  voice  of  wrath  a  sacred  call 
To  pay  the  injuries  of  some  on  all." 

RELLIM'S  watch-dog  fell  at  the  hands  of  the  assassin. 
It  was  the  first  industrial  act  by  Jarl  on  the  recovery 
of  his  wounded  arm. 

Don' t  ask  how  he  did  it ;  the  ways  of  the  young 
Spartan  were  dark  and  full  of  wickedness. 

A  trait  peculiar  to  boyhood  is  the  inclination  and 
the  ability  to  circumvent  dogs.  Jarl  possessed  this 
trait  in  an  eminent  degree.  The  mastiff  passed  away 
peacefully  in  the  solemn  midnight  hour,  or  if  he  died 
with  a  howl  in  his  throat  it  attracted  no  attention,  for 
howling  is  expected  at  that  witching  hour.  The 
untimely  taking-off  of  the  canine  caused  no  commo- 
tion ;  Belli m  made  no  complaint — he  took  it  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  Jarl  made  no  boast  of  the 
canicide. 

There  was  one  other  account  squared  about  this 
time,  by  whom  it  was  not  generally  known,  but  con- 
jecture pointed  strongly  to  Jarl.  Caspar  Liftal  had 


33  TANCREDI. 

either  been  badly  kicked  by  a  mule  about  the  face,  or 
lie  had  received  a  terrible  threshing  from  some  angry 
antagonist.  He  lingered  about  his  father's  cot  until 
the  black  marks  ran  through  the  colors  of  blue,  green, 
yellow,  and  back  to  the  normal  hue  of  his  freckled 
skin.  Caspar  was  as  still-tongued  as  Rellim. 

The  Miller's  Boy's  creed  was  Lex  talionis.  He 
squared  the  accounts  with  everyone  who  injured  him  ; 
and  when  the  dog  fell  dead  at  his  feet  he  considered 
the  covenant  filled  as  far  as  Rellim  was  concerned. 
In  the  same  way  he  balanced  books  with  Caspar  and 
burnt  them.  With  Jarl  that  was  the  final  settlement, 
unless  they  chose  to  re-open  business  with  him. 

The  unfortunate  lad  had  abundant  opportunities  to 
practice  his  creed  of  vengeance.  Lex  talionis,  as  a 
creed,  is  a  cumulative  industry  ;  vengeance  travels 
further  than  mercy,  and  revenge  spreads  wider  than 
forgiveness.  The  remark  is  of  this  world  and  the 
people  in  it. 

Many  were  the  inexcusable  insults,  and  numerous 
the  flagrant  outrages,  perpetrated  on  this  lonely  child  ; 
and,  although  it  doubtless  is  a  tarnish  on  our  hero's 
character,  yet  it  must  be  plainly  stated  that  he  gener- 
ally squared  accounts  with  his  persecutors  the  day 
before  or  day  after  the  time  set  apart  by  him  for  that 
purpose.  Whom  shall  I  strike  to-day  ?  was  the  first 
question  he  asked  himself  on  rising  every  morning. 


TANCREDI.  83 

111  tin's  way  and  because  of  this  way  the  defiant 
youth  fought  back  at  his  neighbors  ;  and  thus  it  came 
that,  what  at  first  was  an  uncharitable  and  unjust 
prejudice  toward  him  on  account  of  his  questionable 
antecedents,  was  now  become  a  deadly  hatred  of  him 
on  his  own  account. 

Love  a  person  without  knowing  why  you  should 
love  him  and  you  will  soon  have  strong  reasons  for 
loving  him.  Hate  him  unreasonably  and  you  will 
soon  have  solid  reasons  for  hating  him. 

At  the  beginning  the  neighbors  disliked  Jarl  under 
the  pretext  that  he  was  the  son  of  a  gypsy  strumpet ; 
but  now  they  hated  him  for  the  added  reason  that  he 
was  violent,  dangerous  and  wicked. 

Had  they  reversed  their  opinion  and  treatment  would 
he  have  been  the  reverse  of  what  he  was?  Ho  was 
violent,  dangerous,  and  wicked — who  was  to  blame, 
nature  or  prejudice,  Jarl  or  society? 

Society  often  acts  on  the  presumption  that  secrecy 
and  mystery  must  necessarily  he  associated  with  wicked- 
ness, especially  when  a  woman  is  in  the  case.  There 
was  secrecy  and  mystery  connected  with  Jaii's  case, 
and  a  woman  was  involved.  Society  had  the  right  to 
know  the  whole  story,  and  the  reason  it  did  not  know 
was  because  the  story  was  not  fit  to  be  told.  It  was — 
must  be  wicked,  wickedness  must  be  punished,  and  if 
the  woman  had  lived  she  would  have  felt  the  ven- 


84  TANCRED1. 

gcance  of  clean  skirted  zealots,  while  the  child  would 
probably  have  been  pitied  and  petted.  But  the  woman 
had  gone  beyond  the  reach  of  the  shafts  of  orthodoxy, 
and  the  next  best  thing  was  to  impound  the  vicarious 
little  foundling  in  the  social  purgatory  to  purge  away 
the  shame  of  his  disgraced  mother. 

When  the  child  first  felt  the  punishment  of  his 
neighbors  he  could  scarcely  realize  what  it  meant. 
The  unsophisticated  little  fellow  in  vain  sought  enjoy- 
ment in  the  company  of  children  about  him.  He  was 
the  bound  boy  at  the  husking — always  crowded  into  a 
back  seat.  It  was  touching  to  witness  his  ingenuous 
devices  by  which  he  strove  to  ingratiate  himself  into 
the  good  graces  of  the  children  about  him. 

"  Your  mother  was  a  gypsy,"  "  Your  mother  was 
a  beggar,"  "  We  are  not  to  play  with  you,"  were  the 
constant  cries  of  the  trained  children  of  these  Christian 
people. 

He  would  stand  among  them  with  the  dazed  feel- 
ing that  he  was  not  of  them  and  stare  with  longing 
wonder  at  the  barrier  which  isolated  him  from  the 
joys  of  childhood.  He  saw  other  children  happy, 
revelling  in  sport  and  merry-making,  and  surrounded 
with  the  tinselled  community  of  playthings ;  there 
were  none  for  him.  He  was  not  permitted  to  touch 
their  toys,  or  contribute  his  own  to  the  general  stock. 
Other  boys  were  caressed  and  praised  ;  there  was  none 


TANCREDI.  35 

for  him.  The  lone  child  turned  away  and  crept  back 
to  the  miller's  cottage,  where  he  murmured  his  heart- 
burning to  the  loved  ones  there,  who  took  him  in  their 
arms  and  wept  over  his  distress. 

He  bore  the  social  ostracism  for  a  long  time — bore 
it  until  the  instinct  of  pride  taught  him  that  he  was  a 
conventional  target  at  which  prudery  shot  its  enven- 
omed arrows,  when  he  began  to  avoid  his  neighbors 
and  no  longer, — never  again,  sought  recognition  among 
the  children  who  should  have  been  his  playfellows. 

He  was  naturally  kind,  light-hearted,  and  compan- 
ionable, but  the  treatment  he  got  repressed  his  affabil- 
ity and  froze  up  the  geniality  of  his  disposition.  He 
saw  life  in  false  colors,  he  felt  life  that  was  morbid, 
and  if  he  was  to  judge  humanity  by  what  he  saw  and 
felt,  how  was  it  possible  for  him  to  be  other  than  he 
was—  violent,  dangerous  and  wicked  ? 

Jarl  is  not  a  hypothetical  creature  given  to  establish 
the  doctrine  of  self-immolation,  wherein  the  second 
cheek  is  turned  to  be  smitten.  No  other  boy  ever  did 
that,  unless  he  was  a  coward,  and  for  the  sake  of  man- 
hood's promise  it  is  to  be  hoped  no  other  boy  ever  will 
consent  to  receive  the  second  blow.  Jarl  is  too  worthy 
to  be  immolated  on  the  altar  of  an  unnatural  philosophy  ; 
no,  not  even  to  point  a  moral  or  adorn  a  tale.  On  the 
contrary  our  hero  shall  obey  the  stronger  promptings 
of  instinct,  which  makes  self  protection  more  imperative 


80  TANG  REDT. 

as  it  is  manlier  that  the  stoicism  of  self-martyrdom. 
Jarl  turned  on  society  and  fought  it  back  blow  for 
blow. 

He  went  over  the  fields  and  among  the  quiet  lanes 
singing  like  a  lark,  and  the  power  and  beauty  of  his 
voice  were  wonderful.  The  cottage  and  the  mill  rang 
with  the  glad  songs  of  this  light-hearted  boy,  and  what- 
ever the  world  may  have  been  to  him,  or  he  to  the 
world,  he  was  always  sure  of  welcome,  and  tenderness, 
and  love  in  the  simple  miller's  family  ;  and  wild  and 
wicked  as  were  many  of  his  acts  away  from  home  he 
never  was  guilty  of  one  cross  word  or  vicious  act  in  or 
about  his  home.  Ho  possessed  a  dual  nature  and  with 
it  two  lives — one  for  home,  the  other  for  the  world  out- 
side ;  the  former  life  was  Love,  the  latter  Hate. 

It  would  be  cheerless  as  erroneous  to  believe  that 
Jarl  was  an  Ishmael  with  his  hand  against  everybody, 
and  everybody  against  him.  It  was  true  he  had  no 
bosom  friend  outside  home,  true  he  met  no  companion 
when  he  went  abroad,  and  he  had  no  kindness  shown 
him  anywhere  away  from  the  mill ;  but  he  went  among 
the  people,  nevertheless,  although  it  was  with  hate  and 
distrust.  He  did  the  miller's  shopping,  collected  his 
bills,  and  ably  executed  his  general  outside  business. 
This  led  to  acquaintances  among  the  people  of  the  city, 
where  he  was  treated  with  that  respect  accorded  a 
person  in  any  honest  business  pursuit.  But  the  fact 


TANCRED1.  37 

remains  that  his  life  had  little  social  pleasure,  and 
many,  very  many,  things  were  said  and  done  to  him 
which  are  to  be  deplored  arid  which  confirmed  and 
intensified  his  hate  and  distrust. 

He  attended  the  district  school  in  winter,  where 
he  showed  a  remarkable  aptitu.de  for  acquiring  knowl- 
edge, but  which  was  hindered  by  what  his  teachers 
were  pleased  to  call  his  insubordination.  The  real 
drawback  was  his  spirit  at  resisting  tyranny.  If  there 
was  a  fight  or  a  fracas  of  any  kind,  Jarl  was  almost  sure 
to  be  involved  or  dragged  in,  in  some  way,  and,  if  no 
one  else,  Jarl  was  sure  to  get  thrashed.  He  was  held 
to  be,  and  probably  was  bad — the  worst  boy  in  school. 
More  than  once  he  had  been  sent  home  in  disgrace. 
But  there  was  no  let  up  with  Jarl ;  he  suffered  but  he 
made  others  suffer.  In  those  days  no  one  wronged 
him  without  feeling  the  day  of  reckoning. 

On  one  occasion  he  exasperated  the  teacher  to 
such  pitch  that,  after  receiving  a  severe  flogging,  he 
was  expelled  from  the  school  as  an  incorrigible.  He 
scarcely  winced  under  the  rod,  and  begged  for  no 
mercy — he  never  would  cry  at  hurt  from  human 
hands — but  when  the  master  ordered  his  expulsion,  he 
begged  to  be  spared  that  disgrace. 

"I  ask  to  stay,''  he  cried,  "  not  for  my  sake,  but 
for  the  sake  of  my  foster  father  and  sister." 

The  teacher  was  unrelenting,  and  Jarl  went.     As 


38  TANCREDI. 

ho  crossed  the  threshold  ho  turned  with  anger  and 
defiance  in  his  face,  shook  his  fist  at  the  pedagogue 
and  departed. 

Little  more  was  thought  of  the  affair  until  the 
next  morning  when  the  master  and  pupils  found  the 
schoolhouso  door  and  windows  securely  barred  from 
the  inside.  Somebody  spoke  of  breaking  down  the 
door,  when  Jarl's  voice  was  heard  inside. 

"  The  first  head  poked  in  here  will  be  broken." 

The  tone  carried  conviction  with  it, — the  door 
was  not  broken  down.  But  something  had  to  be  done. 
They  tried  threats,  the  garrison  was  not  frightened 
thereat.  Entreaty  was  tried,  the  fortress  would  not 
yield.  Finally  the  teacher  asked  Jarl  to  name  his 
terms  of  capitulation. 

"I  want  to  come  back  to  school.  You  may 
thrash  me  for  this,  but  I  want  to  come  back  to 
school." 

The  assaulting  party  accepted  the  terms,  when  the 
gate  was  thrown  open  and  they  took  possession. 

The  teacher  did  not  keep  faith,  however,  but  pros- 
ecuted Jarl  for  disturbing  the  public  peace. 

The  trial  never  came  off.  The  teacher  did  not 
appear  against  him,  and  every  one  else  was  afraid  to 
prosecute.  By  some  process,  known  only  to  Jarl,  the 
teacher  himself  was  brought  into  disgrace,  and  sought 
elsewhere  a  school  less  difficult  to  manage. 


TAJNCHEDI. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  Pauline,  by  pride,  Angels  have  fallen  ere  thy  time." 

THE  Daval  family  was  one  of  tbe  wealthiest  and 
most  respected  in  the  county.  William  Duval, 
Charlotte's  father,  was  a  gentleman  of  refinement  and 
leisure,  living  retired  on  his  beautiful  farm,  after  hav- 
ing acquired  a  fortune  in  business.  The  remainder  of 
his  days  was  appointed  to  ease  and  enjoyment. 

The  Rellims  lived  just  across  the  creek  opposite 
the  Duvals,  and  the  families  were  neighborly,  if  not 
intimate. 

William  Duval  was  quiet  and  unobtrusive  in  man- 
ners, without,  however,  having  the  stupidity  which 
too  often  makes  silent  men  contemptible.  He  held  in 
reserve  a  vast  contingency  of  pluck  and  independence 
which  burst  forth  when  occasion  demanded.  He  was 
very  domestic  in  taste  and  habit,  and  was  particularly 
attached  to  his  daughter,  Charlotte. 

Mrs.  Duval  was  the  extreme  opposite  to  her  hus- 
band in  temperament,  taste  and  culture.  She  differed 
most  from  him  in  her  exquisite  aristocratic  opinions 
and  aspirations.  She  assumed,  what  she  held  to  be, 


40  TANCKEDI. 

aristocratic  ways,  classed  herself  an  aristocrat — a  title 
by  brevet,  since  she  herself  had  been  promoted  by 
marriage  from  a  country  school-teacher,  where  elie 
struggled  for  a  subsistence  and  an  extra  holiday  dress, 
to  that  of  the  mistress  of  the  Dnval  household.  She 
was  fond  of  display,  in  which  penchant  her  husband 
indulged  her  to  the  top  of  her  bent.  She  played 
court  to  great  people,  or  to  people  whom  she  held  to 
be  great,  to  which  pastime  her  lord  found  no  fault  so 
long  as  it  did  not  interfere  with  his  comfort.  Indeed 
he  was  a  model  husband  for  an  aspiring  wife,  at  least 
so  far  as  apathetic  indulgence  in  her  innocent  vanities. 
The  only  time  he  ever  crossed  her  was  when  she  said 
that  Charlotte  was  too  good  to  mingle  with  the  chil- 
dren of  the  neighborhood,  or,  rather,  that  there  was 
no  society  in  the  community  good  enough  for  her 
daughter.  The  husband  restrained  that  bit  of  snob- 
bery in  the  most  peremptory  manner. 

"  Never  repeat  such  a  sentiment,"  he  said  to  her. 
"The  only  standard  by  which  we  shall  choose  compan- 
ions for  our  daughter  must  be  respectability." 

She  repressed  her  nobility  rage,  but  the  venom  of 
pride  turned  inward,  and  poisoned  her  with  disgust 
and  disquiet  at,  what  she  conceived  to  be,  her  hus- 
band's dangerous  social  principles.  She  saw  only  evil 
to  conic  from  the  low-born  associations  which  sur- 
rounded her  daughter ;  but  she  held  her  peace. 


TANCRED1.  41 

When  Charlotte  unexpectedly  returned  home  from 
Rellim's  party,  and  from  which  she  had  so  unceremo- 
niously withdrawn,  Mrs.  Duval  saw  at  once  that  some- 
thing unusual  and  unpleasant  had  disturbed  her 
daughter. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  iny  dear  ?"  asked  the 
mother.  "  Surely  the  party  is  not  over  ;  it  is  not  mid- 
day." 

"No,  mamma,  the  party  is  not  over  ;  but  I  could 
not  stay  there  after  what  I  saw,"  answered  Charlotte, 
as  if  she  would  be  best  pleased  to  cry. 

"  Why,  my  child,  what  did  you  see  there  that 
troubles  you  so  much  ?" 

Charlotte  then  related  to  her  mother  the  scene 
with  Jarl,  and  with  which  the  reader  is  already  famil- 
iar. 

Mrs.  Duval  was  prejudiced — strongly  prejudiced, 
— against  the  miller's  boy,  and  the  daughter,  conse- 
quently, brought  her  grievance  before  an  unsympathiz- 
ing  audience.  For  her  tale  she  got  a  scolding,  and  for 
her  tears  she  got  sneers,  all  of  which  intensified  the 
ache  at  her  heart,  and  she  broke  down  in  a  paroxysm 
of  weeping. 

The  mother,  remembering  the  husband's  admoni- 
tion, bridled  her  tongue  on  the  occasion,  and  no  fur- 
ther talk  was  had  between  herself  and  daughter  on  the 
subject. 


42  TANCHEDI. 

On  the  following  day  a  neighbor  woman  called  on 
Mrs.  Dnval,  and,  after  the  local  weather,  came  the 
local  scandal. 

"  What  do  you  think,  Mrs.  Dnval  ?  That  young 
scamp,  Jarl,  the  Miller's  Boy,  broke  up  the  party  at 
Rellim's,  yesterday  !  Yes  !  He  got  into  a  fight  with 
the  gardener  who  caught  him  stealing  flowers  on  the 
front  lawn,  and  the  dog  bit  him.  Yes  !" 

"  The  young  vagabond !"  added  Mrs.  Duval, 
encouragingly. 

"  Yes !  And  what's  worse,  your  daughter  Char- 
lotte took  his  part !  Yes  !  And  what's  worse  yet,  she 
tied  his  arm  up  in  her  scarf  !  Yes  !" 

"  You  don't  tell  me  that  my  daughter  was  seen 
talking  to  that  low-born  trash  !  Dreadful !" 

"  Yes !  And  what's  worst  yet,  she  gave  him  her 
scarf  to  keep !  to  keep  for  good !  Yes !  What  do  you 
think  !" 

"  Oh,  mercy  !  Gave  him  her  scarf  !  That  scarf 
with  the  heart  and  anchor  !  The  scarf  her  aunt  gave 
her  as  a  birthday  present !  Scandalous !  Now  what'll 
her  father  say  ?" 

When  Mr.  Duval  came  home  the  wife  poured  into 
his  ear  her  effervescing  mind. 

"  William,  you  have  always  disapproved  of  my 
efforts  to  keep  Lotta  away  from  low  company.  I 


TAXCREDL  43 

trust  you  will  now  see  that  I  was  right,  and  that  your 
social  theory  is  wrong." 

"  Why,  wife,  what  is  the  matter  now  ?" 

"Matter,  you  ask?  Why,  haven't  you  heard  of 
the  scandal  Lotta  has  got  herself  into?" 

"  I  have  not ;  nothing  serious,  I  pray  ?  But  tell 
me  what  it  is." 

"  Why,  the  whole  country  is  talking  of  her  and. 
Jarl,  the  Miller's  Boy.  That  low  beggar  !  Such  car- 
ryings on  I  never  heard  of  before !  It's  perfectly 
disgraceful !" 

"  What's  perfectly  disgraceful  ?  My  dear,  you 
don't  tell  me  what  the  scandal  is." 

"  Oh,  it's  awful !  Taking  that  bad  boy's  part ;  the 
low-born  scamp !" 

"  Who's  taking  his  part  ?" 

"  Why,  our  Lotta,  to  be  sure !" 

' '  Is  that  all  ?     Is  that  the  scandal  ?" 

"  Is  that  all !  As  if  that  wasn't  enough  !  No, 
that's  not  all.  She  gave  him  her  scarf  to  keep !  The 
one  her  aunt,  your  sister,  gave  her." 

Duval  then  he.ird  related  with  his  wife's  peculiar 
coloring  and  hyperbole  the  account  of  the  accident 
which  befel  Jarl,  and  the  part  which  Charlotte  took 
therein. 

He  said  nothing  by  way  of  approval  or  disapproval 
at  the  time,  but  managed  to  secure  his  daughter  for  a 


44  TANCREDI. 

walk  in  the  seclusion  of  the  garden,  where  he  adroitly 
led  her  to  talk  of  the  affair.  The  tale  as  it  fell  from 
her  lips  sounded  altogether  like  a  different  story  from 
the  one  told  by  his  wife. 

The  reader  must  already  see  that  Duval  was  not 
hasty  or  violent ;  and  yet  he  was  a  man  of  strong  feel- 
ing, positive  convictions,  and  great  steadfastness.  He 
was  sometimes  slow  at  coming  to  a  conclusion,  but 
when  he  did,  his  whole  soul  was  in  the  verdict.  Jarl 
had  never  crossed  his  path,  he  had  not  seen  the  boy. 
With  his  characteristic  fashion  of  not  meddling  with 
other  people's  affairs,  he  held  no  convictions  in  regard 
to  the  social  status  of  that  youth.  If  ho  did  hold  any 
opinion  in  the  case  it  was  very  crude,  and  probably 
tinctured  somewhat  by  the  general  repute  in  which 
the  boy  was  held  by  those  who  assumed  -to  know  all 
about  him.  But  he  had  formed  no  opinion  that  would 
stand  as  a  judgment  in  regard  to  Jarl,  because  he 
never  had  had  occasion  or  opportunity  to  form  an 
opinion.  Very  likely  had  he  been  asked  for  an 
expression  of  his  opinion  he  would  have  said  the  bov's 
reputation  is  bad. 

But  now  that  the  lad  was  thrown  in  his  way,  Duval 
was  not  the  man  to  condemn  him  on  the  opinion  bor- 
rowed of  his  neighbors.  The  opinion  of  the  neighbors 
was  that  Jarl  was  thoroughly  bad  ;  but  they  might  be 
mistaken  in  this.  The  lad  had  never  molested  him  : 


TANCREDI.  45 

he  liad  not  experienced  his  reputed  wickedness,  and  lie 
was  much  the  same  to  him  as  any  other  boy. 

In  the  light  of  all  this  he  could  not  find  it  in  his 
heart  to  chide  his  daughter  for  having  shown  a  kind- 
ness to  the  Miller's  Boy.  Indeed  her  opinion  in  the 
case  weighed  more  with  him  than  the  sum  total  of 
public  opinion,  plus  that  of  his  wife,  and.  in  itself,  was 
prima  facie  evidence  to  partially  vindicate  the  boy's 
traduced  character.  Charlotte's  pity  led  captive  her 
father's  prejudice — if  he  had  any. 

"And  you  did  give  him  your  beautiful  scarf,  my 
dear?"  he  quietly  asked,  after  she  had  told  him  all. 

"Yes,  I  did,  father.  Did  I  do  right,  do  you 
think?" 

"  I  suspect  that  it  was  wrong,  but  we  shall  see. 
Your  mother  thinks  it  was  wrong.  And  yet  I  don't 
see  why  it  should  be  very  wrong.  You  meant  it  to  be 
right,  and  your  act  was  right  in  motive.  Besides  it  is 
always  right  to  treat  kindly  the  oppressed  and  unfor- 
tunate. But  I  don't  understand  why  you  gave  him 
your  scarf  to  keep.  His  wounds  would  not  heal 
quicker,  nor  would  the  arm  feel  more  comfortable  by 
making  him  a  present  of  the  scarf.  It  would  have 
been  just  as  kind  if  you  had  loaned  it  to  him." 

There  was  a  merry  twinkle  in  the  father's  eye  as  he 
ran  on  in  this  way  about  the  scarf.  Charlotte  herself 
seemed  to  feel  that  she  could  offer  no  plausible  explan- 


46  TANCREDI. 

ation  to  the  last  remarks  of  her  father,  for  she  hung 
her  head  in  silence. 

"It  is  scarcely  aruartiele  for  a  boy's  dress,"  contin- 
ued Dnval,  bent  on  teasing  Charlotte  into  some  kind 
of  an  explanation.  "  Did  he  ask  you  for  it  ?" 

"  No,  father  ;  I  gave  it  to  him  because  they  made 
me  angry,  and  because  they — they  called  him — beg- 
gar." 

She  leaned  sobbing  on  her  father's  hands  reached 
out  to  comfort  and  shield  her.  He  raised  up  her  tear- 
dimmed  face  and  kissed  her  tenderly.  Tears  stood  in 
his  own  eyes. 

The  two  companions  walked  into  the  house  hold- 
ing each  other  by  the  hand,  and  quietly  took  their 
places  at  the  tea-table.  The  mother  saw  by  the  action 
of  the  amicable  pair  that  the  daughter  had  won  the 
father  over  to  her  way  of  thinking,  and  that  he  was 
disposed  to  make  light  of  the  affair.  But  she  was 
determined  that  he  should  not  make  light  of  the 
affair. 

"  I  suppose,  husband,  that  you  quite  agree  with 
Lotta  and  believe  that  her  actions  yesterday  were  com- 
mendable ?"  said  she  in  a  voice  quavering  with  sub- 
dued anger. 

"  We  quite  agree,  my  dear,"  replied  the  husband 
in  his  quiet  manner. 


TANCRED1.  47 

"You  bad  bettor  invite  Jarl  to  tbe  bouse,"  said 
tbe  ironical  woman. 

"  We'll  think  of  it,"  was  tbe  reply  of  tbe  imper- 
tnrbed  man. 

"  William  Duval,  you'll  ruin  your  cbild  if  you  con- 
tinue to  allow  ber  to  associate  witb  all  tbe  low  people 
of  tbe  neighborhood." 

Tbe  usually  pleasant  table  chat  was  visibly  affected 
by  these  cross  purposes,  and  the  family  did  not  eat 
with  their  accustomed  hearty  relish.  The  wife  occa- 
sionally came  back  at  her  husband  with  dissent  at  what 
was  to  her  mind  his  dangerous  social  democracy. 
But  he  would  not  be  provoked  into  a  serious  discus- 
sion of  the  subject,  and  by  sufferance  allowed  the  Avife 
to  have  it  all  her  own  way,  which  should  have  made 
her  a  happy  woman,  but  which  same  she  was  not. 

At  breakfast  next  morning  she  returned  to  the 
charge  with  more  fervor  than  ever,  determined  that,  if 
she  could  not  convince  her  husband  of  his  error,  she 
would  at  least  wash  her  hands  of  all  complicity  in  a 
course  of  conduct  which  she  felt  sure  would  terminate 
calamitously  to  her  child.  The  quiet  man  ate  his  break- 
fast without  saying  much  on  any  subject  and  nothing 
on  his  wife's  subject.  He  looked  up  now  and  then  at 
Charlotte,  smiling  on  her  and  apparently  paying  little 
heed  to  his  wife's  railing. 

"  I'm  determined  that  tbe  beggar's  brat  shall  restore 


48  TAJMC'REDL 

that  scarf  this  very  day !"  exclaimed  the  scorned  woman, 
as  her  husband  arose  from  the  table. 

He  stood  leaning  on  the  back  of  Charlotte's  chair, 
and  looked  at  his  wife  with  a  serious  smile  on  his  pas- 
sive face. 

"  I  mean  what  I  say,  William  Duval.  That  bold, 
low-bred  boy  shall  not  parade  that  scarf  around  the 
country  as  the  keepsake  from  my  daughter.  I  shall 
demand  it  of  him  this  very  day." 

"  My  dear  wife,  you  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort. 
I'll  settle  this  affair  myself,  since  it  troubles  you  so 
greatly,  and  I  don't  want  the  subject  discussed  until  I 
open  it.  Come,  Lotta,  get  your  hat ;  you  and  I  will 
visit  the  old  mill." 

Duval  and  his  daughter  were  on  their  way  across 
the  iields,  talking  and  laughing  as  they  went. 

He  was  disposed,  or  had  been  disposed,  to  treat  the 
affair  with  indifference,  but  the  persistent  complaining 
of  his  wife  aroused  a  desire  and  a  prejudice  in  his 
favor.  His  wife's  railings,  no  less  than  his  daughter's 
sympathy,  had  won  him  over  tp  the  side  of  com- 
passion. 

It  does  not  argue  well  for  the  domestic  dignity  of 
the  Duvals,  yet  it  is  true  that  the  head  of  that  family 
held  the  opinion  of  his  child  on  the  case  higher  than 
that  of  his  wife.  The  latter  was  not  a  short-sighted 
woman,  she  was  not  stony-hearted,  nor  was  she  habitu- 


TA.NCREDI.  49 

ally  given  to  holding  dissenting  opinions  from  her 
husband.  She  had  few  faults  of  judgment  or  discre- 
tion, and  tin's,  her  aristocrat  conceit,  was  her  most 
serious  fault.  He  had  great  respect  for  her  opinions 
on  other  matters,  but  in  the  present  case  she  was  too 
highly  tinctured  with  romance,  so  he  thought,  to 
render  an  unbiased  opinion.  And  yet  she  might  be 
right.  That  was  what  he  was  determined  to  learn. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Jarl  that  Duval  was  a  thorough 
man  of  the  world,  who  had,  himself,  come  up  from 
the  plane  of  youthful  folly.  He  remembered  well 
what  it  was  to  be  reckoned  a  bad  boy,  £or  he  had  felt 
the  sting  of  that  reputation.  In  his  experience  the 
"good"  boys  grew  into  stupid,  negative  men;  while 
'•bad"  boys  cropped  out  into  prominent,  influential 
and  worthy  citizens.  He  could  not  be  acquainted 
with  all  the  circumstances  of  Jarl's  life,  but  he  knew 
in  a  general  way  how  easy,  nay  how  common  it  is, 
to  misjudge  and  misrepresent  a  spirited  youth  sowing 
his  wild  oats.  His  own  views  were  strangely  seconded 
by  his  pure  daughter  in  her  sympathy  for  Jarl.  Thus 
folly  and  purity  blended,  and  inclined  him  to  give  Jarl 
a  fair  show. 

Arrived  at  the  cottage  they  were  coldly  invited  by 
Prudence  Jackman  to  enter  the  cozy  sitting-room. 
Duval  asked  for  Nate,  the  miller,  who  was  summoned 


50  TANCREDI. 

from  tlie  mill,  and  who  came  iiito  the  room  making 
excuses  for  his  dusty  garments. 

"  I  came  to  see  about  Jarl,"  said  Duval,  in  hia 
brusque  manner. 

The  old  man  sighed  and  shook  his  head,  while 
Prudence  turned  pale.  Never  in  all  those  years  had 
a  single  person  called  to  inquire  about  Jar],  unless  it 
was  to  find  fault,  or  charge  him  with  some  villainy. 
And  now,  they  thought,  Mr.  Duval  was  there  to  brand 
him  with  some  fresh  infamy. 

"Jarl  is  very  sick,  sir,"  said  Prudence,  in  a  humble 
beseeching  voice.  "  He  is  confined  to  bed  ;  and  please, 
Sir,  don't  worry  him  to-day." 

"  Don't  hurt  him  to-day,"  echoed  Nate,  in  the  same 
tone  of  anguish. 

"  Rellim's  dog  has  bit  his  arm,  and  the  doctor  is 
attending  to  him,"  continued  Prudence,  encouraged 
by  Duval's  silence. 

"  Yes,  he's  bit  by  Kellim's  big  dog.  Bit  on  the 
arm.  Bit  awful  bad,  too,  the  doctor  says,"  added 
Nate,  as  though  he  would  apologize  for  the  boy's  ina- 
bility to  receive  company. 

"  That's  what  we  came  to  see  about,"  said  Duval, 
bluntly. 

"  Oh,  Sir,  it  wasn't  his  fault,  indeed  it  wasn't  hia 
fault,"  exclaimed  Prudence,  taking  it  for  granted  that 
everybody,  including  Duval,  believed  it  was  his  fault. 


TANCREDI.  51 

"  People  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  themselves  for  let- 
ting a  big  dog  tear  a  boy's  arm  to  pieces.  1  don't  see 
how  they  could  have  the  heart  to  drive  him  away 
without  tying  up  his  torn  arm.  But  for  your  kind 
daughter,  God  bless  her !  the  poor  boy  might  have 
bled  to  death  on  the  road,"  she  exclaimed,  breaking 
down  in  great  painful  sobs. 

"  Yes,  he  might  have  died,  Jarl  might,"  said  Nate, 
taking  up  the  refrain  of  his  daughter's  discourse. 
"  Died  in  the  road  !  Died,  and  not  a  rag  on  his  sores  to 
stop  the  bleedin'  !  Died,  poor  boy  !" 

"What  was  Jarl's  business  at  Kellim's?"  asked 
Duval. 

"To  <"arry  a  letter  to  Rellim,  telling  him  to  make 
haste  and  get  his  money  out  of  the  bank,  for  it  was 
going  to  break,"  answered  Prudence,  revived  some- 
what with  the  hope  that  after  all,  Mr.  Duval's  inten- 
tions were  friendly. 

"  Yes ;  and  bekase  he  was  obleegin'  enough  to 
carry  the  letter,  he  let  his  big  dog  chaw  up  his  arm. 
And  it's  chawed  up  awful  bad — his  arm's  chawed  up 
till  he's  got  the  fever,  the  doctor  says,"  exclaimed 
Nate,  winding  up  his  hot  charge  by  coughing  and 
drawing  his  dusty  sleeve  across  his  dusty  face. 

"  Everybody  is  down  on  Jarl,  and  have  been  ever 
since  he  came  to  us  a  wee  child  only  three  years  old," 
cried  the  angry  Prudence.  "  Everybody  but  Char- 


52  TANCKEDI. 

lotto,"  she  added  in  a  softer  key,  while  she  bestowed  a 
smile,  the  sweet  smile  of  a  grateful  heart,  on  that 
young  girl.  "  No  one  ever  spoke  one  kind  word  to 
him  but  Charlotte  in  all  these  years.  What  have  they 
got  against  him  ?  I'd  like  to  know.  He'll  let  them 
alone,  if  they'll  let  him  alone." 

"  Yes  ;  he'll  let  'ern  alone,  if  they'll  let  him  alone. 
But  they  won't  let  him  alone,  don't  you  see?  but  they 
abuse  him  every  time  he  goes  from  home,  abuse  him 
all  the  time.  Who  can  stand  it?"  exclaimed  Nate, 
rising  from  his  chair,  and  looking  about  him  as  though 
he  would  he  glad  to  strike  some  one  on  the  head. 
Resting  his  eyes  on  Charlotte,  he  changed  his  mind 
about  hitting  heads,  while  the  scowl  faded  away  into 
the  most  benignant  expression,  and  he  continued,  "  All 
but  your  little  gal,  Jarl  likes  her  !  We  all  like  her, 
God  bless  her  !  We  all  like  her  bekase  she  was  kind 
to  Jarl — spoke  kind  to  him,  mind  you,  when  every- 
body else  spoke  cross  !  God  will  bless  her  for  that !" 

He  reached  across  the  table  to  where  she  sat  and 
just  touched  the  blue  ribbon  that  dangled  from  her  hat 
— touched  it  with  the  reverence  a  martyr  might  touch 
the  robe  of  an  angel. 

Mr.  Duval  sat  silent  and  listened  while  the  pathetic 
story  went  on.  He  was  visibly  interested  in  their  tale 
of  woe,  and  deeply  impressed  with  the  spirit  in  which 
these  humble  people  stood  up  for  the  outcast  whom 


TANCREDI.  53 

they  fed  and  sheltered.  He  began  to  see  the  case  in  a 
newer  and  truer  light.  He  began  to  believe  that  his 
child's  behavior  toward  Jarl,  so  far  from  being  repre- 
hensible, was  impelled  by  the  worthiest  and  most 
sacred  of  all  motives — pity  for  the  weak  and  injured. 

He  drew  Charlotte  to  his  side  and  whispered  in 
her  ear,  she  then  went  over  to  the  miller  and  took  him 
by  the  hand  in  the  most  affectionate  manner. 

"We  came  to  ask  about  Jarl,"  she  said,  "and  to 
help  him,  too,  if  he  needs  help,  and  you  will  allow  us. 
My  good  father  feels  sorry  for  him,  as  I  do,  and  we 
both  want  to  be  good  to  him." 

"  God  bless  you !  God  bless  the  little  angel !"  cried 
the  old  man,  while  the  tears  made  mucilaginous  fur- 
rows down  his  befloured  cheeks.  He  put  his  arms 
around  her  neck  arid  kissed  her. 

Prudence  began  brushing  the  girl's  clothes,  but  the 
tears  blinded  her,  and  she  saw  only  a  luminous  child's 
face  swimming  in  a  halo  of  opal  light.  She  covered 
the  face  with  kisses.  Duval  himself  made  believe 
that  something  was  stuck  in  his  throat  which  required 
energetic  coughing  to  dislodge. 

Sympathy  and  confidence  placed  the  miller  and 
his  daughter  at  their  ease,  and  they  spoke  out  unre- 
strained by  fear  of  unfeeling  listeners.  The  silent 
man  let  them  talk  while  he  did  the  thinking.  Such 
men  are  driving  the  world  at  this  moment.  When 


54  TANCKEDI. 

Duval  came  to  understand  any  subject  lie  was  gener- 
ally found  on  the  right  side,  and  actively  on  the  right 
side. 

Jackman  and  Prudence  poured  out  tale  after  tale 
of  wrong  and  injury  heaped  on  the  forsaken  child,  of 
persecutions,  and  sneers,  and  slights,  and  blows,  and 
tyrannies  that  had  pursued  him  even  to  the  very 
threshold  of  his  home,  until  Duval  the  cool,  mild-man- 
nered man,  actually  struck  his  fist  on  the  table,  and 
swore  until  the  house  shook  with  the  former,  and  his 
audience  trembled  at  the  latter. 

"I'll  hear  no  more  of  this,  my  friends, — lean 
stand  to  hear  no  more.  Take  me  to  Jar]." 

Nate  led  the  way  to  the  wounded  boy's  chamber. 
What  was  said  there  is  not  important  to  know  at  pres- 
ent. When  they  came  down  stairs  the  father  and 
daughter  shook  hands  with  the  Jackmans  and  started 
for  home  after  promising  to  return  soon  and  often. 

They  walked  along  for  some  distance  in  silence; 
Duval  with  his  head  drooped  on  his  breast  as  if  in 
profound  thought. 

"What  will  mamma  say  now?  I'm  all  over  flour 
dust,"  said  Charlotte  as  she  gave  her  dress  a  shake. 

"You  are  not  to  speak  to  your  mother  a  word 
about  it  until  I  give  you  leave,"  exclaimed  Duval  in  a 
stern  voice  of  command. 


TANCREDI.  53 

"Why,  father?"  said  Charlotte  in  amazement,  as 
she  halted  to  look  up  in  his  face. 

"1  mean,  my  dear,  that  I  will  speak  to  mother 
about  this  affair,  and  she  will  say  that  you  have  acted 
nobly,  my  darling,"  he  said,  in  a  gentle  and  sweet 
voice. 

He  took  her  hand,  and  thus  they  sauntered  home. 


56  TANCREDI. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

"  Kind  words  are  more  than  coronets, 
And  simple  faith  than  Norman  blood." 

"  WIFE,  you  have  always  aspired  to  move  in  an  ex- 
clusive and  aristocratic  circle,"  William  Duval  quietly 
said  to  liis  helpmate  as  they  sat  alone  on  the  evening  of 
the  day  on  which  the  visit  was  made  to  the  mill. 

"  William,  I  have  aspired  to  a  position  for  myself 
and  family  among  refined  people ;  I  should  be  seconded 
by  you,  not  ridiculed." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,  if  you  put  it  that  way  ;  but 
don't  get  refinement  and  aristocracy  mixed  up.  But 
we'll  not  dispute  about  the  terms  you  may  use.  Now, 
I  have  no  objection  to  aristocracy, — I  mean  the  pure 
genuine  article,  not  to  your  indulgence  in  the  same 
when  you  come  across  real  Simon  pure  aristocrats. 
The  trouble  seems  to  be  in  our  disagreement  as  to  the 
meaning  of  the  term,  aristocracy." 

k<  In  that  case  the  proper  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to 
compare  notes,  and,  if  possible,  agree  on  what  consti- 
tutes true  aristocracy.  Shall  we  try  to  come  to  an 
agreement  by  analyzing  the  word  ?" 


TANCREDI.  57 

"Agreed;  and,  as  you  have  given  the  subject 
much  study — have  made  a  specialty  of  aristocracy,  you 
shall  open  the  discussion,"  responded  Duval,  pleased  to 
believe  that  the  one  skeleton-in -closet  was  about  to  be 
exorcised  by  the  wand  of  philosophy. 

"  What  is  aristocracy  ?"  asked  the  puzzled  woman, 
with  a  rising  inflection,  as  though  she  was  in  doubt 
how  to  begin  and  yet  was  in  for  some  kind  of  defini- 
tion. She  felt  at  once  that,  with  all  her  supposed 
familiarity  with  the  subject,  the  work  before  her  was 
not  plain  or  easy. 

"  Yes  ;  tell  us  what  you  know  about  aristocracy ; 
that's  the  question  before  the  house,"  said  Mr.  Duval, 
droll}',  as  he  turned  his  face  beaming  with  good  humor 
toward  his  wife. 

"  It  is  better  to  be  a  little  choice  of  one's  society  ; 
don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"Yes,  yes  ;  that's  true;  I  grant  that.     Proceed." 

"  Well,  the  Gossels  are  low  people ;  surely  you 
don't  want  me  to  associate  with  them  !" 

"  Quite  right.  All  they  think  of  is  greed,  all  they 
practice  is  avarice.  They  are  grovelling,  ignorant 
people.  Proceed." 

"Well,  there  are  the  Lunnans  ;  you  will  admit  that 
they  are  not  fit  companions  for  us  ?" 

"  Right,  again.  They  are  natural  born,  hereditary 
3« 


53  TAJSTCREDI. 

criminals,  with  a  constant  representation  in  the  county 
jail.  Who  else?" 

"  There's  that  low-born,  wicked  boy,  Jarl ;  Lotta  is 
too  good  to  associate  with  him  /" 

"  I  am  not  of  that  opinion.  However,  we'll  speak 
of  him  presently.  You  have  named  some  of  those 
whom  you  believe  are  not  aristocrats  ;  please  give  me 
a  few  examples  from  among  those  whom  you  hold  to 
be  true  aristocrats." 

"  Our  nearest  neighbors,  the  Rellims ;  don't  you 
consider  them  distinguished  people  ?" 

"  They  are  distinguished,  yes  ;  but  what  for  ?  Is 
it  on  account  of  their  wealth,  and  their  position  as 
wealthy  people  ?  If  so,  that  does  not  make  them 
aristocrats.  Imagine  them  etript  of  riches — their 
iuone\r,  lands,  servants,  and  equipages,  would  they  be 
distinguished  ?  And,  after  all,  that  is  the  true  test, — 
do  we  respect  such  a  person  for  himself — for  his  intrin- 
sic merits,  or  because  of  his  surroundings?  If  for  the 
latter  he  is  no  true  aristocrat." 

"But  you  are  friendly  with  Rellim,  yourself." 

"  True,  I  am ;  but  nevertheless  my  opinion  of 
Rellim  is  that  he  is  a  cold,  exacting  and  selfish  man, 
void  of  culture  or  refinement.  He  knows  nothing, 
absolutely  nothing  outside  of  his  business,  and  his  single 
redeeming  trait  is  he  knows  his  business  well,  and  has 
been  successful  in  amassing  wealth.  As  he  is  respect- 


able  I  tolerate  him  ;  as  he  is  our  neighbor  I  treat  him 
civilly;  but  I  have  no  high  regard  for  him  personally, 
and  refuse  to  class  him  an  aristocrat  on  account  of  his 
wealth  or  his  influence.  Unadorned  with  riches  he 
would  be  a  very  common  fellow  ;  certainly  not  an  aristo- 
crat, as  I  understand  the  term.  There  is  no  native 
genuine  nobility  about  Rellim,  and  the  gild  of  gold  that 
gives  him  polish  will  not  wash.  Nature's  nobleman 
and  a  true  aristocrat  are  synonymous  with  me." 

"Why,  husband,  I  never  heard  you  speak  so  dis- 
paragingly of  any  one  before  !" 

"  We  never  held  a  court  of  inquiry  into  our  neigh- 
bor's character  before.  As  the  advocate  of  genuine 
aristocracy  I  must  tell  the  truth  plainly,  distasteful 
though  it  may  be.  Besides,  my  dear,  this  is  confidential 
talk  between  you  and  me." 

Mrs.  Duval  sighed,  and  went  on  with  her  needle- 
work. Duval  lit  a  cigar  and  watched  the  curling  smoke 
wreathe  harmless  cyclones  about  his  head.  Neither 
spoke  for  some  time. 

"Well,  now,  William,  suppose  }TOU  take  the  witness- 
stand  as  an  expert  and  tell  us  what  you  know  about 
aristocracy,"  she  presently  said,  looking  up  from  her 
work. 

"  You  want  to  know  what  true  aristocracy  is  ?" 

"  Yes ;  that's  the  question  before  the  house.  Pro- 
ceed." 


60  TANCREDI. 

"  Juvenal  says,  '  Virtue  is  true  nobility.'  " 

"But' what  do  you  say?" 

"  I  agree  vvitli  him,  and  with  Pope,  who  holds  ihat 
an  honest  man's  the  noblest  work  of  God." 

"These  are  fine  platitudes,  which  sound  well,  but 
are  threadbare  with  long  and  vulgar  use,  void  of  aristo- 
cratic ideas,  and  without  the  pretense  of  argument. 
"Why  don't  you  come  to  the  point,  and  not  go  about 
begging  the  question  ?" 

"Well,  then,  my  wife,  any  one  whom  we  respect 
for  himself  alone  is  a  genuine  aristocrat." 

Mrs.  Duval  sat  musing  for  some  time.  At  length 
she  looked  up  at  her  husband  who  had  been  intently 
watching  her. 

"  What  does  all  this  discussion  signify  ?  We  are 
as  far  from  agreeing  as  before.  Yon  have  some 
design  in  it  all,  what  is  it  ?" 

Mr.  Dnval  puffed  away  at  his  cigar,  which  was  fast 
burning  to  its  last  ashes,  but  he  said  nothing.  She 
laid  away  her  sewing  and  went  over  and  sat  on  his 
knee,  where  she  peered  wonderingly  in  his  face. 

"  I  know  you  too  well  to  believe  that  you  would 
go  to  all  this  trouble  without  a  serious  object  in  view. 
What  is  your  object  ?" 

"  To  inform  you  that  you  have  overlooked  some 
true,  genuine  aristocrats  of  this  neighborhood,"  he 
replied,  throwing  away  the  stump  of  his  cigar. 


TANCKEDI.  61 

"  Name  them,  my  clear.     Where  do  they  live?" 

"  We  have  a  young  prince  in  disguise,  living 
amongst  us." 

"  You  astonish  me !  Who  is  he,  where  is  he  ?'' 
she  eagerly  asked,  rising  from  his  knees  and  standing 
before  him. 

"  He  lives  at  the  old  mill,  and  his  name  is  Jarl." 

"Jurl,  the  Miller's  Boy!  Noble!  Are  you  in 
earnest  ?" 

"  Jarl,  the  Miller's  Boy,  is  a  true  born  aristocrat." 

"  You  were  at  the  miller's  to-day ;  what  did  you 
discover  there  ?" 

"  I  discovered  that  Jarl  is  noble  ;  but  go  to-morrow 
and  learn  about  him  for  yourself." 

Duval  may  have  spoken  wiser  than  he  knew. 

lie  meant  to  appeal  to  the  weak  side — the  aristo- 
cratic side — of  his  wife's  nature  ;  he  meant  that  Jarl 
was  possessed  of  a  noble  nature  ;  he  meant  to  persuade 
his  wife  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  miller's  cottage.  Once 
there  she  would  see  for  herself  the  handsome  boy, 
learn  how  bright  lie  was,  and  hear  the  tales  of  wrong 
and  distress  as  told  in  the  eloquent  words  of  the  miller 
and  daughter. 

He  knew  at  heart  his  wife  was  a  good  woman,  and 
that  her  one  vanity  was  the  only  barrier  that  kept 
good  out  of  her  heart.  He  believed  that  the  way  to 


62  TANCREDI. 

reach  her  heart  was  through  her  prejudice,  and  he 
therefore  appealed  to  her  pride. 

As  "  the  gods  of  our  pleasant  vices  make  insa-u- 
inents  to  scourge  us,"  so  may  our  frailties  be  turned 
into  leading  strings  to  draw  us  back  into  the  path  of 
duty. 

Blessed  is  the  man  "who  can  lure  his  wife  into  the 
ways  of  wisdom  through  the  medium  of  her  tender 
frailties. 

More  blessed  still  the  wife  who  inclines  her  hus- 
band back  to  home  and  love  by  the  lever  of  his  vices. 

The  voice  of  the  siren  is  not  analogous;  the 
pigmy  leading  the  giant  is  a  feebler  comparison  ;  the 
only  parallel  is  the  legend  of  the  guardian  angel  lead- 
ing a  mortal  with  hand  unseen  and  force  unfelt. 


TANCREDI. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  A  generous  friendship  no  cold  medium  knows, 
Burns  with  one  love,  with  one  resentment  glows  ; 
One  our  interests  and  our  passions  be, 
My  friend  must  hate  the  man  that  injures  rue." 

O:r  the  day  following  the  debute  on  aristocracy 
Mrs.  Duval,  accompanied  by  Charlotte,  visited  the 
miller's  cottage. 

Old  Nate  came  in  from  the  mill  to  pay  his  re- 
spects to  the  great  lady,  for  the  Duvals  had  wonder- 
fully risen  in  the  esteem  of  the  Jackmans.  He  sat 
and  chatted  with  Charlotte  while  Prudence  took  the 
mother  to  the  chamber  where  lay  the  wounded  boy. 

He  was  asleep  when  they  entered.  His  injured 
arm,  bound  up  in  the  surgeon's  dressings,  lay  across 
and  above  his  head.  The  bared  breast,  head  and  arm 
could  not  have  been  more  exquisitely  beautiful  if  they 
had  been  carved  from  marble,  under  the  inspiration  of 
puissant  genius.  In  physical  conformation  Jarl 
deserved  to  be  the  descendant  of  a  long  line  of  kings. 
He  looked  noble  as  he  lay  in  his  graceful  repose. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  contemplation  of  the  superb 
picture  that  most  attracted  the  attention  and  aroused 


04  TANCKEDI. 

the  interest  of  the  romantic  woman.  His  appearance 
impressed  her  V7ith  the  belief  that  her  husband  had 
not  jested  when  lie  spoke  of  a  prince  in  disguise.  It 
was  the  romance  that  exactly  suited  the  turf  hunter. 

In  this  interview  Mrs.  Duval  heard  quite  a  differ-  , 
ent  chapter  in  the  boy's  history  from  that  told  her 
husband  a  day  previous.     Probably  it  was  because  she 
led  the  conversation  in  a  different  channel,  but  at  all 

events,  Mrs.   D heard  what,  Mr.  D did   not, 

and  he  had  heard  what  she  did  not  hear.  Prudence 
gave  all  the  circumstances  connected  with  the  first 
appearance  of  Jarl  at  the  mill  ;  the  mysterious  lady 
with  rich  dress,  refined  manners,  remarkable  beauty, 
and  who  spoke  a  foreign  language,  all  of  which  indica- 
cated  gentility,  perhaps  nobility,  and  certainly  aris- 
tocracy. The  pictures  of  the  distinguished  looking 
person,  afforded  the  woman  additional  testimony, 
establishing  the  theory  that  the  boy  was  really  the  off- 
spring of  distinguished  parentage.  Mrs.  Duval  wi»s  as 
thoroughly  convinced  that  Jarl,  if  not  a  prince  in  dis- 
guise, was  noble,  as  she  was  convinced  of  the  identity 
of  her  own  daughter. 

Filled  to  repletion  with  this  opinion  and  its  con- 
comitant fancies,  she  had  no  room  for  the  tales  of 
suffering  and  distress  which  filled  the  boy's  life  with 
shame  and  sorrow.  The  romance  monopolized  her 
entirely  ;  it  swelled  and  rounded  out  into  all  the  beau- 


TANCREDI.  65 

tiful  proportions  of  rank  and  splendor,  and  stopped 
her  ears  to  the  vulgar  plaints  of  misery.  It  is  doubt- 
ful if  she  ever  knew,  although  she  may  have  been 
tcld,  that  Jarl  had  been  wronged  and  abused. 

"  You  must  take  good  care  of  him,  young  woman," 
she  whispered  to  Prudence,  with  a  patronizing  air. 

"  Take  care  of  him,"  exclaimed  the  astonished  girl 
under  her  breath.  "  If  we  don't  take  care  of  him, 
in  the  name  of  mercy,  who  will  ?" 

"  The  boy  has  rich  and  powerful  friends  some- 
where in  the  world,  I  feel  sure,  and  no  doubt  they 
will  be  found  some  day,  when  they  will  reward  you 
for  all  your  trouble,"  whispered  Mrs.  Duval. 

"  Trouble !  Reward  !  We  want  no  reward,  only 
to  keep  him  with  us  always.  God  bless  him  !"  cried 
the  half  indignant  young  woman,  her  eyes  swimming 
in  tears. 

Jarl  awoke  and  stared  in  bewildered  astonishment 
at  the  strange  lady. 

"  This  is  Mrs.  Duval,  Charlotte's  mother.  She  is 
here  to  see  you,  my  dear,"  said  Prudence  going  up  to 
the  bedside. 

He  smiled  and  reached  out  his  uninjured  hand  to 
the  l:idy,  who  took  it  and  tenderly  held  it  in  her  own. 

"  My  little  friend,  you  must  make  haste  and  get 
well,"  she  said,  in  a  cheery  voice.  "  I  want  to  ask 


66  TANCREDI. 

you  a  whole  heap  of  questions,  all  about  your  parents 
and  your  home  before  you  came  here." 

Jarl  thanked  her,  and  said  he  would  hasten  his 
recovery  in  every  way  he  could. 

"  Can  you  recollect  anything  about  your  name  or 
home  when  you  were  a  child  ?"  asked  the  curious 
woman,  with  the  air  of  one  used  to  dealing  with  abstruse 
problems,  and  who  felt  that  a  few  well  directed  inquires 
would  clear  up  the  mystery  connected  with  Jarl's  early 
history. 

No;  he  recollected  nothing  clearly.  He  had  a 
confused  remembrance  of  a  big  house  on  a  noisy  street, 
and  that  a  large  musical  instrument  (a  piano,  suggested 
Mrs.  D.)  stood  in  that  house. 

"  I  thought  so,"  exclaimed  the  lady,  delighted  to 
find  that  the  boy's  memory,  feeble  though  it  was, 
reverted  to  trappings  of  wealth  and  splendor.  "  Can't 
you  think  of  more  ?  Can't  you  remember  an  illustrious 
father?  Does  not  memory  recall  a  noble  mother?" 

The  boy  shook  his  head. 

"  Or  even  of  coaches  and  horses,  and  servants  in 
livery  ?" 

The  head  shook. 

"  Surely  you  remember  of  wearing  beautiful  gar- 
ments ?" 

No ;  went  the  head. 

"  Or  handsome  playthings  ?" 


TAXCREDI.  67 

"  Yes  ;  I  remember  of  having  a  wheelbarrow." 

The  pedigree  hunter  looked  disgusted.     What  at  ? 

Did  the  wheelbarrow  carry  Jarl  toward  a  coalheav- 
ing  ancestry  ? 

If  he  could  only  recollect  the  familiar  trappings  of 
place  and  pride — the  crowns,  and  diadems,  and  courts, 
and  pageants,  it  would  better  have  tallied  with  Madam's 
wish. 

Having  exhausted  her  interrogatories  on  the  subject 
of  Jarl's  infantile  history  the  female  Socrates  took  her 
leave,  in  the  main  satisfied  with  her  visit. 

When  Mr.  Duval  came  home  in  the  evening  the 
wife  entered  at  once  into  a  discussion  of  the  subject 
uppermost  in  her  mind. 

"Do  you  believe  me,  William,  I  think  yon  were 
right  about  Jarl,  the  Miller's  Boy.  He  may  not  be  the 
prince  in  disguise  you  claim,  but  there  is  something 
away  above  the  common  about  him.  Mark  my  words, 
he  is  indeed  the  child  of  illustrious  parentage." 

"  Jarl,  the  low-born  wicked  boy  !  The  beggar's 
brat !  The  bad  boy  to  whom  Charlotte  gave  her  scarf, 
noble  ?  Impossible !"  exclaimed  Duval,  in  the  most 
tantalizing  manner. 

"  Why,  you  said  so,  yourself,  now  !"  whined  the 
wife,  in  a  rebuking  spirit.  "  You  have  a  bitter  memory 
for  my  former  opinion  of  the  youth.  It  was  to  please 
you  I  went  to  see  him,  and  now,  after  I  have  learned 


63  TANCREDI. 

to  know  him  better,  and  am  disposed  to  do  him  justice, 
yon  turn  around  and  ridicule  me." 

"  Pardon  me,  my  dear  wife,  but  the  temptation  to 
indulge  in  a  fling  at  your  late  opinion  was  too  strong 
to  resist ;  forgive  me  this  time.  I  rejoice  more  than 
you  think,  to  know  that  you  do  him  justice.  It  shows 
how  clear  and  good  you  can  be  when  you  get  on  the 
right  track.  You  have  my  warmest  praise.  Lotta  was 
right,  you  see,  and  that  was  the  main  point  we  sought 
to  establish." 

"  But  seriously,  husband,  what  makes  you  think 
Jarl  is  of  noble  blood  ?" 

"  I  do  not  think  he  is,  or  is  not." 

"  Why,  you  said  so." 

"  No,  my  dear  ;  I  said  that  he  is  noble.  I  referred 
to  the  boy,  not  to  his  family.  I  know  nothing  of  the 
latter." 

"  Oh  ;  I  begin  to  understand  ;  he  is  one  of  your 
nature's  noblemen, — your  ideal  aristocrat." 

"That  was  about  my  meaning." 

But  still  Mrs.  Duval  had  unlimited  faith  in  the 
high-born  lineage  of  her  new  prodigy.  Her  interest  in 
the  boy  was  begot  by  pride,  that  of  her  husband's  by 
sympathy.  Jarl  profited  by  both 

Did  he  prove  deserving  ? 

Jarl  began  life  under  new  auspices,  and  with  altered 
surroundings.  His  feelings  and  his  motives  were 


TANCBEDI.  GO 

changed.  The  change  was  manifest  to  all  who  knew 
him.  Now  thoughts,  better  impulses,  and  fresh  hope 
fired  his  heart  with  a  desire  for  a  better  life.  Where 
defiance  and  recklessness  rankled  before  now  grew  up 
the  blossoms  of  peace  and  good  will.  His  aspirations 
were  not  embittered  with  the  wonted  spirit  of  ven- 
geance. It  is  true  he  did  slay  Rellim's  dog,  true  he 
flogged  Caspar  Liftal  within  an  inch  of  his  life,  but 
opportunity  impelled  the  blows  which  were  the  last 
rancorous  flashes  from  the  expiring  embers  of  hate. 

Kindness  had  conquered  him.  A  common  kind- 
ness, which  costs  nothing,  brought  him  over  to  peace. 
The  gentle  kindness  of  a  pure  young  girl  redeemed  the 
young  outlaw. 

Nearly  every  day  while  he  was  confined  to  the 
house  with  his  feverish  arm,  Charlotte,  often  accom- 
panied by  one  or  the  other  of  her  parents,  visited  him. 
The  intimacy  thus  sprung  up  ripened  into  a  mutual 
regard  between  the  proud  Duvals  and  the  humble 
Jackmans.  The  warmest  and  most  beautiful  attach- 
ment grew  up  between  the  two  children.  It  was  not 
that  love  wherein  sexual  instinct  is  the  mainspring, — 
they  were  but  children  ;  but  it  was  that  love,  not  less 
firm,  founded  on  sympathy  and  devotion,  and  which  is 
ultimately  led  captive  when  passion  awakes  from  its 
embryo  tic  slumber. 

It  was  as  humorous  as  it  was  pleasant  to  witness 


70  TANOHEDL 

the  proprietary  airs  of  the  child  Charlotte  toward  the 
child  Jarl.  She  assumed  to  control  Jiis  words  and 
actions,  and,  if  possible,  his  very  thoughts.  It  is  not 
meant  that  she  tyrannized  over  him,  or  that  lie  was 
the  worse  for  being  thus  subjected  to  a  moral  quaran- 
tine before  admittance  into  a  healthy  social  atmosphere. 
His  ways  were  a  little  rough,  she  smoothed  them 
down  ;  his  words  were  sometimes  harsh,  she  modulated 
to  a  softer  key ;  his  thoughts,  as  sometimes  expressed 
to  her,  were  often  wicked,  she  banished  them. 

To  the  boy,  long  accustomed  to  neglect  and  ill- 
usage,  it  was  a  severe  struggle  to  reform.  Malignity 
had  engrafted  itself  on  his  nature,  and  would  occasion- 
ally burst  through  all  restraint  and  overwhelm  Jarl 
with  disgrace  and  Charlotte  with  dismay.  However, 
under  her  patient  tutorship  he  did  measurably  succeed 
in  conducting  himself  as  a  civilized  boy  should. 

But  there  was  trouble  ahead.  In  spite  of  the 
patronage  of  the  influential  Duvals  the  neighbors  one 
and  all  refused  to  admit  Jarl  to  fellowship.  They  had 
hated  him  too  long  and  too  strong  for  so  radical  a 
change  as  that  from  hate  to  fellowship. 

In  justice  to  Jarl  it  must  be  stated  that  ho  neither 
expected  nor  sought  favor  of  any  of  his  neighbors; 
apparently  he  was  as  defiant  and  disdainful  as  ever. 
But  he  was,  by  his  discreet  behavior,  showing  that  he 
deserved  some  friendly  recognition  at  the  hands  of  his 


TANCREDL  71 

fellow  creatures.  Mrs.  Duval  tried  hard  to  introduce 
her  protege  to  the  favorable  notice  of  society,  but  in 
vain. 

The  major  part  of  the  residents  of  the  community 
had  injured  Jarl  in  one  way  or  another,  and  nearly  all 
had  spoken  ill  of  him. 

It  is  common,  although  unaccountable,  for  a  person 
to  hate  any  one  he  has  injured.  This  is  especially  the 
case  where  the  wrong  inflicted  is  heinous,  unprovoked, 
and  deliberate.  The  .hate  is  still  more  intensified  when 
the  victim  is  innocent  and  amiable. 

John  Roe  causelessly  wrongs  Richard  Doe.  Doe 
never  wronged  Roe,  does  not  even  resent  the  injury 
he  feels ;  why  should  Roe  hate  Doe  that  much  the 
more  bitter  ?  Why  does  Roe  continue  the  wrong  ? 
Why  does  he  add  insult  to  injury  ? 

There  is  no  sensation  that  so  absorbs  a  man's  mind 
or  so  influences  his  conduct  as  the  feeling  he  has 
toward  the  person  who  owes  him  a  debt.  That  debt 
may  be  one  of  money,  or  gratitude,  or  hate.  Roe  feels 
a  peculiar  interest  in  his  debtor,  Doe, — he  keeps  his 
eye  on  him.  What  that  debtor  does  or  says  has  a 
more  than  ordinary  interest.  Roe  is  constantly  expect- 
ing pay  day  to  come  around,  especially  when  hate  is 
the  debt.  Nay,  in  the  latter  case,  he  urges  payment  by 
every  provocation  that  suggests  itself. 

Society  was  well  aware  that  it  had  wronged  Jarl. 


72  TANCJIEDI. 

It  know  the  boy  owed  it  a  debt  of  hate,  and  society 
fully  expected  that  Juii  would  continue,  as  he  had 
done,  to  pay  that  debt  in  installments  of  revenge. 
Kindness  from  the  members  of  society  toward  him 
now  would  be  a  surrender,  and  an  unequivocable 
acknowledgment  that  they  had  been  in  the  wrong. 
They  were  not  the  sort  of  people  to  stultify  themselves 
by  such  a  confession ;  they  were  not  around  for  the 
purpose  of  exalting  gypsy  beggars  to  respectability. 
No  ;  let  him  cancel  his  debt  with  hate  for  hate.  They 
defied  him  ;  they  held  him  at  arm's  length. 

Mrs.  Duval  was  criticized  and  ridiculed  by  her 
acquaintances  for  her  espousal  of  the  young  outlaw's 
cause  ;  but  she  was  not  to  be  turned  aside  from  her 
romantic  undertaking,  and  continued  to  patronize  the 
boy  with  more  zeal  than  ever. 

Jarl  was  often  invited  to  the  Duval  mansion,  where 
he  often  went,  but  obstinately  refused  to  remain  for  a 
minute  if  other  visitors  were  present.  Mr.  Duval  took 
a  deep  interest  in  the  lad,  for  which  the  latter  was 
touchingly  grateful.  But  Charlotte  was  the  delight  of 
his  eyes.  It  was  a  sight  of  beauty  to  watch  them  in 
each  other's  company.  His  handsome  face  would  light 
up  with  joy  when  he  came  into  her  presence.  They 
roamed  the  fields  and  among  the  shadowy  groves 
together,  and  the  dales  echoed  with  their  glad  shouts, 
and  rang  with  Jarl's  bird-like  songs.  He  was  supreme- 


TANCREDI.  73 

ly,  boisterously  happy,  nor  was  his  bliss  alloyed  with 
desire  for  other  society  than  Charlotte's. 

The  autumn  came  on,  and  with  it  the  opening  of 
the  district  school,  where  Jarl  was  to  attend.  All 
dread  was  gone  when  he  learned  that  Charlotte  Duval 
also  was  to  attend  the  same  school. 

On  the  very  opening  day  it  was  manifest  that  the 
new  teacher  was  primed  with  opinions  prejudicial  to 
Jarl.  By  constant  guard  and  patient  endurance  he 
went  through  the  first  two  weeks  without  great  misfor- 
tune. He  felt  that  he  was  watched  and  distrusted  as 
though  he  were  a  wild  beast  of  prey. 

One  day,  during  the  noonday  play  hour,  some 
trouble  arose  among  the  ball  players.  Jarl  never 
attempted  to  join  in  the  games,  he  had  been  ruled 
out  long  before.  On  this  particular  day  Jarl  was 
watching  the  game  from  a  respectful  distance  with  no 
thought  of  interfering.  Suddenly  the  ball  from  the 
bat  fell  at  his  feet,  where  to  let  it  lie  was  his  first 
thought ;  but  everybody  on  the  field  seemed  yelling  at 
him  to  throw  them  the  ball.  He  picked  it  up,  but  in 
his  bewilderment,  threw  it  to  the  wrong  player.  This 
almost  involuntary  and  unintentional  blunder  on  his 
part,  drew  down  on  his  head  the  fiercest  maledictions 
of  the  party  that  lost  by  the  mistake.  They  called 
him  everything  that  juvenile  brains  could  invent  or 
boyish  tongues  give  utterance  to. 


74  TANCREDI. 

"  Keep  your  hands  oS  what  don't  belong  to  you," 
exclaimed  a  big  boy,  drawing  nigh. 

"  You're  always  pokin' your  nose  into  what  dcn't 
concern  you.  I've  a  mind  to  break  your  head  !" 
shouted  others,  as  a  mob  crowded  around  Jarl.  The 
shouting  and  jeering  crowd  attracted  the  whole  school 
to  the  spot. 

Jarl  said  nothing,  but  his  clenched  fists,  flashing 
eyes,  and  ashen  face  showed  that  revenge  was  almost 
bursting  from  his  defiant  body.  Charlotte  Duval  was 
standing  near,  he  caught  her  eye;  she  elbowed  her 
way  to  his  side.  She  turned  and  faced  the  menacing 
and  angry  crowd  of  boys. 

"  You  cowards  are  always  imposing  on  Jarl !"  she 
cried.  "  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves.  I 
heard  you  call  on  him  to  throw  the  ball,  and  now  you 
abuse  him  for  doing  so !  You're  all  a  pack  of  cow- 
ards !" 

"Hello,  Lotta!  You're  Jarl's  sweetheart,  ain't 
you  ?  Better  mind  your  own  business,  tomboy !" 

Jarl  stretched  the  young  blackguard  on  the  turf, 
and  looked  prepared  for  all  comers,  but  no  one  else 
came. 

A  complaint  was  made  against  Jarl  to  the  teacher, 
and  he  was  called  up  before  the  school. 

"  Did  you  strike  Richard  Smith  !" 

"  I  did." 


TANCREDI.  75 

"What  for?'' 

"  For  insulting  Charlotte  Duval." 

l(  Did  you  know  it  was  wrong  to  strike  him  ?" 

"No,  Sir." 

"  Are  you  sorry  you  struck  him  ?" 

"Ko." 

"  Then  I  shall  punish  you." 

"  I  think  you  had  better  not  try  that." 

"Why?" 

"Because  you  would  be  in  the  wrong  with 
Richard.  Besides  I'll  thrash  him  every  time  he  insults 
Charlotte.  If  you  punish  me  for  doing  right,  you'll 
be  sorry." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  as  a  threat  ?" 

"I  mean  it  as  the  earnest  truth,  and  no  warning." 

The  teacher  did  not  heed  the  warning,  but  made 
Jarl  strip  for  the  whipping.  The  poor  fellow  then 
received  one  of  those  brutal  beatings  which  were  once 
thought  to  be  a  department  of  learning. 

Jarl  was  barbarously  beaten ;  blood  flowed  at  every 
stroke. 

As  each  blow  fell  on  his  almost  naked  shoulders 
Charlotte  shrieked,  until  no  longer  able  to  endure  the 
shocking  sight,  the  brave  girl  threw  herself  between 
master  and  his  victim,  and  forced  the  brute  to  desist. 

"  Your'e  killing  him !     Stop,  for  God's  sake,  stop ! 


76  TANCREDI. 

Your'e  killing  him  because  he  took  my  part !"  cried 
the  terrified  girl. 

And  Jarl,  how  did  he  behave? 

Like  a  martyr  under  the  knout,  or  in  the  flames. 
He  never  winced,  but  his  face  was  pale  as  death,  and 
his  great  black  eyes  emitted  a  terrible  light  as  he 
glared  on  the  brutal  master. 

The  teacher  saw  murder  in  that  boy's  eye,  and  he 
laid  away  the  hickory  rod,  when  Charlotte  fell  fainting 
to  the  floor.  Jarl  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  sprang 
for  the  door,  where  he  stood  like  a  tiger  at  bay. 

"  You  have  beat  me  for  the  last  time !  You  beat 
me  for  these  cowards !  I'll  get  even  with  you  all !" 

He  was  gone.  He  led  and  half  carried  Charlotte 
Duval,  who  partially  revived  on  entering  the  glad  free 
air  which  played  and  sang  among  the  trees,  or  moaned 
among  the  gables  of  the  slaughter-pen  left  behind  for- 
ever. Mr.  Duval  returned  for  Charlotte's  books  and 
Jarl's  clothing.  Flight  alone  saved  the  pedagogue 
from  the  wrath  of  the  enraged  father  and  friend. 

When  Jarl  reached  home,  the  keen-sighted 
Prudence  soon  learned  the  new  trouble,  and  on  seeing 
his  shoulders  such  a  wail  of  distress  went  up  from  her 
throat  as  would  have  melted  a  heart  of  stone.  When 
Nate  saw  the  cruel  welts  and  blood-stained  excoria- 
tions, he  struck  his  ponderous  fists  together  and  swore 
like  a  trooper. 


TANCREDI.  77 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  Know  how  sublime  a  thing  it  is 
To  suffer,  and  be  strong." 

THE  evening- of  the  day  on  which  Jarl  received  the 
unmerciful  beating  was  a  memorable  one  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  Jackmans,  for  it  was  the  time  when  Jarl 
first  spoke  of  running  away. 

The  occupants  of  the  cottage  sat  around  the  blaz- 
ing fire  after  the  miller's  work  was  done.  The 
November  winds  moaned  among  the  pines,  and  whis- 
tled around  the  gables,  and  the  sleet  rattled  at  the 
windows. 

Prudence  had  anointed  Jarl's  wounds  with  oil  and 
to  the  great  comfort  of  his  external  hurts,  but  there 
was  an  ache  at  his  heart  which  oil  and  lint  could  not 
assuage. 

"I  want  to  go  away,"  said  Jarl,  interrupting  the 
silence  which  had  fallen  on  the  group. 

"Go  away!"  exclaimed  JSTate,  in  surprise.  "Did 
you  say  go  away.  Jarl  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  shall  go  away  from  here." 

c;  And  why  do  you  want  to  go  away,  my  boy?" 


78  TANCREDI. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  stand  the  abuse  of  the  people  any 
longer.  I  thought  maybe  it  was  mostly  my  fault  that 
everybody  is  so  cross  to  me,  but  it  an't  that.  The  better 
I  behave  and  the  harder  I  try  to  deserve  their  good 
opinion  the  worse  they  treat  me.  I'm  tired  of  being 
fought  at  and  beaten  and  abused,  and  I'm  tired  of  fight- 
ing back.  The  only  way  to  end  it  all  is  for  me  to  go 
away  from  here." 

"  But  where  can  you  go,  Jarl,"  asked  Prudence,  in. 
alarm. 

"  Somewhere,  anywhere,  so  it's  away  from  here, 
and  far  enough  away  where  I  an't  known." 

"  Poor  boy  !  But  what's  to  become  of  us  ?  what's 
to  become  of  me  and  Prudy  if  you  go  away  ?  Think 
of  that,  Jarl,  what's  to  become  of  me  and  Prudy  after 
you  are  gone  ?" 

Jarl  arose  and  stood  beside  the  old  man  seated  in 
his  arm-chair,  and  gently  and  so  lovingly  put  one  arm 
around  the  miller's  neck. 

"I  think  of  that,  my  good  father,  and  my  good  sister, 
I  think  of  that  every  day.  I  thought  of  it  long  ago, 
and  because  I  thought  of  you  I  stayed  and  suffered." 

"  Oh,  Jarl !  We  can  never  let  you  go  !"  cried  Pru- 
dence, taking  his  disengaged  hand  in  both  hers. 

"No,  Jarl,"  said  Nate,  shaking  his  gray  head  very 
emphatically,  "we  can  never  let  you  go.  Stay  with  us, 
Jarl,  we'll  be  good  to  you  ;  we  love  yon,  Jarl,  if  other 


TANCREDI.  79 

people  don't;  you  needn't  go  where  they  air.  All. 
except  Miss  Charlotte  and  her  father  and  mother — 
Charlotte  '11  be  good  to  yon — they'll  all  be  good  to  you, 
all  of  'em.  They  like  yon  Jarl,  but  not  as  we  love  you. 
You'll  stay  with  us?" 

"  But,  my  kind  father,  listen  ;  I  can't  always  stay  at 
home.  I'll  be  a  man  some  day,  and  must  leave  you 
then  ;  why  not  now  ?  Besides,  I  am  not  going  away  for 
good — not  going  to  desert  you.  I  don't  mean  that.  I 
will  come  back  home  often  and  often,  for  this  is  my 
dear  home,  and  you  are  my  dear  father  and  sister. 
Why,  I'll  write  to  you  every  day,  and  it'll  be  nearly 
the  same  as  if  I  were  with  you  all  the  time." 

The  three  remained  silent  for  some  time,  and  they 
all  looked  straight  into  the  fire. 

The  proposition  of  the  foster  child  was  new  and 
startling.  Long  as  he  had  suffered,  and  long  as  he  had 
wished  to  fly  from  the  cruel  neighbors,  he  had  never 
before  given  them  a  hint  of  his  desire,  nor  would  he 
now  if  there  was  any  other  course  left  open  for  him  to 
follow. 

He  was  fully  determined  to  go.  It  was  bad 
enough  to  remain  when  he  could  fight  his  enemies 
back  ;  there  was  a  degree  of  satisfaction  in  that.  But 
his  case  was  different  now.  The  Duvals  entered 
largely  into  his  life,  and  fighting  back  was  out  of  the 
question.  To  practice  his  creed  of  vengeance  would 


80  TANCREDI. 

frighten  Charlotte  and  displease  her  parents.  Grati- 
tude toward  them  was  a  part  of  his  religion,  and 
going  away  was  his  salvation.  Not  that  he  was  less 
brave  or  self-reliant,  nor  because  revenge  was  less 
sweet,  but  because  his  few  friends  would  be  constantly 
shocked  and  mortified  were  he  to  continue  his  life  of 
retaliation. 

As  he  could  no  longer  fight  he  must  retreat. 
Staying  meant  war,  going  meant  peace. 

"  Where  will  you  go,  my  boy  ?"  asked  Nate,  still 
looking  straight  into  the  fire,  as  if  addressing  it. 

"  I  should  like  to  go  where  I  can  get  a  little  more 
schooling,  and  where  I  can  learn  a  trade,"  answered 
Jarl,  speaking  to  the  fire. 

"  Jarl,  my  boy,  why  not  be  a  miller  ?  Why  not, 
indeed  !  I  could  turn  out  good  work  when  I  was 
your  age.  I  could,  that !  I  could  turn  it  out  with 
the  best  of  'em.  The  mill's  mine ;  it'll  be  yourn 
some  day,  if  you'll  only  stay.  Some  day  when  I'm 
gone  the  mill  '11  be  yourn.  I  have  done  well  here  in 
the  old  mill ;  I  have,  indeed.  You  can  do  better  nor 
even  I  did,  bekase  you're  a  heap  smarter  nor  even  I 
was." 

The  great  log  at  the  moment  turned  over  in  the 
fire,  and  a  brilliant  shower  of  sparks  filled  the  chimney 
throat. 

"Don't  you  see  how  the  people  hate  me,  father? 


TANCREDI.  81 

The  old  mill  would  rot  down  with  idleness  Lefore 
they  would  send  their  grain  to  my  mill." 

A  gust  of  wind  sent  a  puff  of  smoke  down  the 
chimney  and  into  the  room. 

"  Maybe  so !  Maybe  so !  God  pity  them  all ! 
God  pity  them  as  drives  my  poor  boy  away  from  me." 

Again  silence  fell  on  the  sad  group.  Jarl  was 
standing  between  the  seated  father  and  daughter,  with 
one  hand  resting  on  the  old  man's  shoulder,  and  the 
other  hand  in  Prudence's  hands.  They  all  looked 
into  the  fire,  their  conversation  was  directed  to  the 
fire,  and  from  it  they  received  responses.  Their 
musings  were  flame  girt,  their  thoughts  branded  with 
fire.  It  was  a  scene  that  could  only  be  enacted 
around  the  domestic  hearth. 

"  Father,"  said  Prudence,  in  an  absent,  dreaming, 
like  voice. 

Nate  heard  not,  heeded  not,  he  gazed  into  the 
fire. 

"  Father,"  repeated  the  girl.       . 

"  What  is  it,  Prudy  ?"  asked  the  old  man. 

She  made  no  answer.  What  is  it  she  sees  in  the 
live  embers?  Is  it  the  face  of  the  dead,  fresh  risen 
from  the  tomb  ? 

"  Father ;  why  don't  you  speak,"  she  exclaimed, 
impatiently. 

4* 


82  TANCREDI. 

"  Are  you  crazy,  girl  ?"  asked  Nate,  reaching 
around  Jarl,  and  giving  her  a  shake. 

"  What  is  to  hinder  us  from  going  away  with 
Jarl  8"  she  asked,  rising  to  her  feet,  and  turning  to  her 
father,  with  a  look  of  alarm  on  her  face. 

The  old  man  also  arose  to  his  feet  with  no  less 
frightened  look — a  look  compounded  of  dread,  terror, 
and  sorrow. 

"  Go  away  with  Jarl !     Leave  the  Old  Mill !" 

"  Yes,  father  ;  go  away  with  Jarl.  I,  too,  am  tired, 
have  long  been  tired,  of  the  life  we  lead  here — the  life 
we  have  led  ever  since  the  poor  child  came  to  us." 

New  thoughts  and  startling  emotions  were  crowd- 
ing each  other  fast  and  painfully  in  the  minds  of  the 
miller  and  his  daughter. 

"  You  are  getting  old,  father,  and  need  more  rest 
than  you  get.  You  have  saved  enough  to  keep  you 
the  balance  of  your  days.  Dickson  has  been  at  you 
for  a  long  time  to  sell  him  the  mill ;  why  not  let  him 
have  it,  and  go  away  from  here  and  take  us  all  with 
you  ?" 

"  Sell  the  Old  Mill !  My  father  owned  it  before 
me.  I  was  born  here.  I  was  born  and  bred  a  miller, 
and  don't  know  anything  else." 

"  Oh,  yes,  father,  you  know  what  is  good  for  Jarl, 
and  you  can  help  him  learn  something  outside  the 
mill." 


TANCREDI.  83 

"  Go  away  from  here  and  leave  poor  mother  all 
alone  in  her  cold  grave?  Leave  her  all  alone  !" 

"My  mother  loved  little  Jarl,  too,"  she  said,  sob- 
bing, after  an  interval  of  silence. 

"So  she  did!     So  she  did!" 

"  It  would  break  her  poor  heart  to  see  the  way  the 
poor  boy  is  abused  around  here.  It  would  kill  her  to 
see  him  go  away  among  strangers.  It  would  kill  her ! 
And  it  will  kill  me." 

"  I  expect  it  would.  I  expect  it  would.  Well,  I 
must  sleep  on  it.  I  must  have  a  talk  with  Duval; 
what  he  says  to  do,  I'll  do.  So,  there,  now  ;  that's  all 
I'll  promise." 

They  retired  for  the  night. 


84  TANCHEDL 


CHAPTER  X. 

"  Stand  not  upon  the  order  of  your  going, 
But  go  at  once." 

IF  divinity  shapes  our  ends,  what,  then,  is  the 
subtle  agency  through  which  it  operates?  Is  it  by 
some  imponderable  and  inscrutable  dynamics  reflected 
from  a  world  unseen  ?  Is  it  the  faint  glimmer  that 
streaks  life's  gloom  with  faith  and  hope? 

Perchance  the  shadows  of  the  dead  wife  and 
maniac  woman  bent  over  the  couch  of  the  sleeping 
miller,  and  stamped  on  the  register  of  his  brain  their 
desire. 

''I  must  tell  you  about  my  dream  last  night,"  said 
Kate  Jack  man,  smiling  pleasantly  on  his  family  at 
breakfast  the  next  morning  after  Jarl's  declaration. 

"I  dreamt  that  my  wife  was  a  livin'  and  that  me 
and  her  and  Prudy  started  to  go  away — far,  far  away 
from  the  old  mill,  a  leavin'  Jarl  behind.  Just  as  we 
were  a  goin'  over  the  far  hill  we  halted  to  take  a  last 
look  at  the  old  spot,  when  we  saw  the  mill  on  fire, 
with  Jarl  on  the  roof  a  wavin'  for  me  to  come  back 


TANCREDI.  85 

and  take  him  out  of  the  fire.  We  could  see  the  mob 
of  mad  people  a  pokin'  up  the  fire  to  make  it  hotter 
and  hotter  to  burn  Jarl.  My  wife  started  on  a  run  back 
to  help  Jarl,  and  I  run  too,  but  I  beat  her  a  runnin'. 
When  I  got  to  the  mill  the  mob  ketched  me  and  held 
one  of  my  feet  in  the  fire  to  roast  it.  That  waked  me 
up,  when  I  found  one  of  my  feet  a  stickin'  out  from, 
under  the  bed-clothes,  and  cold  as  ice." 

Jarl  laughed  at  the  tale  of  the  dream,  and  more 
particularly  at  its  queer  ending,  which,  he  said,  was  as 
ridiculous  as  the  ending  of  his  own  dream  of  the  last 
night. 

"I  dreamed,"  he  went  on  to  say,  "  that  the  witches 
caught  me,  and,  after  saddling  me,  rode  me  away 
through  the  skies  of  the  night.  I  cantered  along  very 
spiritedly — was  what  yon  might  call  a  prancing  steed 
— until  the  saddle  began  to  gall  me,  which  presently 
became  so  painful  that  I  awoke  with  the  smarting,  and 
from  a  horse  with  a  galled  back,  was  instantly  changed 
into  a  fidgety  boy  who  had  rolled  over  in  his  sleep  on 
his  eore  back." 

"  What  a  lucky  dream,"  said  Nate,  who,  like  all 
the  old  stock,  was  not  quite  sure  but  what  witches 
were  real  beings.  "  To  dream  of  witches  is  a  sign 
of  money.  To  dream  of  them  a  ridin'  you  through 
the  air,  is  a  sign  you'll  git  pooty  high  up  in  the 
world.  In  fact  its  lucky  it  was  a  dream." 


86  TANCREDI. 

"  Why  is  it  lucky  ?" 

"  If  it  hadn't  been  a  dream,  it  would  ha'  been  real, 
wouldn't  it  ?" 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  that." 

"  Did  they  ride  you  a  straddle  ?" 

"  How  would  a  horse  know  that  ?" 

"  'Cause  if  they  did  I'll  tell  you  how  to  keep  them 
from  ridin'  you  astraddle  another  time." 

"How!" 

"  Don't  go  to  sleep,  and  the  witches  won't  ride 
you." 

Nate's  loud  laughing  brought  Jarl  to  gradually 
know  that  a  joke  had  been  perpetrated  at  his  expense. 

"If  you  don't  want  your  foot  roasted  by  a  mob, 
you  had  better  stay  awake  and  not  take  off  your 
shoes,"  retorted  Jarl. 

Nate  affected  not  to  hear  the  last  remark  of  Jarl, 
but  suddenly  became  interested  in  Prudence. 

"  And  what  did,  you  dream,  Prudy  ?"  he  asked 
her. 

"  I  did  not  dream,  father,  but  lay  awake  and 
thought." 

"  What  was  you  a  thinkin'  about  ?" 

"  Of  everything  and  everybody  I  ever  knew.  I 
thought  of  yon,  and  mother  and  Jarl.  I  thought  that 
maybe  Mrs.  Duval  is  right — that  Jarl  has  powerful 
friends  somewhere  in  the  wide  world  who  are  griev- 


TANCREDI.  87 

ing  for  his  loss,  and  to  whom  we  should  try  to  restore 
their  lost  boy.  And  then  I  thought  that  if  ever  we 
do  find  them,  or  they  us,  we  must  get  away  from  this 
secluded  place  And  mingle  with  the  great  world  where 
they  are.  And  I  also  thought,"  she  continued  in  a 
softer,  sadder  voice,  "  I  also  thought,  of  John  Taplan, 
the  sailor,  who  started  for  Cape  Horn  on  his  way  to 
California  four  years  ago.  I  remembered  his  promise, 
and  I  wondered  if  he  had  kept  faith  with  me,  as  I 
have  kept  faith  with  him  2" 

"  Poor  girl !  Poor  girl !"  exclaimed  the  father. 
"  Four  long  years  and  no  word  from  John  !  But  if 
he's  alive  he's  true  ;  he's  true,  I  swear  he's  true,  if  he's 
alive !  Jarl,  when  you  get  your  breakfast  you  must 
go  over  to  Duvals  and  tell  him  I  want  to  see  him.  I 
want  to  have  a  long  chat  with  him  on  important  busi- 
ness ;  mind,  on  particular  business" 

Jarl  met  Duval  and  Charlotte  en  route  to  the  mill, 
and  turned  back  with  them. 

Jackman  and  his  trusted  friend  were  closeted  a 
long  time  together  that  morning.  The  matter  between 
them  was  the  discussion  of  Jarl's  declaration. 

Duval  listened  attentively,  and  with  few  inter- 
ruptions, until  Kate  had  said  all  he  could  say  on  the 
subject.  Jackman  concluded  his  statement  by  bluntly 
asking,  "  Ought  I  to  go,  or  stay  ?" 

Duval  was  perplexed,  and  for  a  long  time  sat  in 


83  TANCREDI. 

silent  deliberation.  When  he  began  to  talk  he  spoke 
very  slowly,  as  if  cautiously  groping  his  way  along  an 
unknown  path  in  the  dark. 

"  You  place  a  solemn  responsibility  on  me,  my 
friend.  The  future  happiness  of  yourself  and  youiv 
daughter,  will  largely  depend  on  what  my  advice  shall 
be,  and  will  certainly  depend  on  what  course  you  pur- 
sue. We  must  make  no  mistake.  Let  us  decide  as 
wisely  as  we  can,  since  the  issue  is  to  be  so  great. 
And  before  I  give  you  my  opinion,  I  must  have  time 
to  think  the  subject  all  over.  Let  Jarl  go  home  with 
me  ;  I  must  have  a  free  and  full  talk  with  him.  On 
to-morrow  I  shall  come  to  you  with  my  answer." 

On  the  following  day,  Duval,  in  pursuance  of  his 
appointment,  returned  to  the  mill. 

"  Well,  Kite,"  said  he,  "  I  have  been  thinking  the 
matter  over  and  over  again  ;  I  have  talked  with  Jarl, 
and  the  more  I  study  the  case,  the  more  I  hesitate  in 
shouldering  the  responsibility  of  advising  you.  How- 
ever I  said  I  would  and  I  will.  But,  in  order  that  I 
may  be  relieved  somewhat  of  the  weighty  trust  con- 
fided to  me,  you  shall,  with  my  help,  reach  the 
decision  step  by  step." 

Nate  bowed  assent. 

"  You  are  getting  well  on  in  years  ?" 

"Yes." 


TANCREDI.  89 

"  You  have  looked  forward  to  the  time  when  you 
could  take  life  easy  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  You  have  saved  between  seven  and  eight  thous- 
and dollars,  and  your  mill  and  house  will  bring  three 
thousand  more  ?" 

«  Yes." 

"  Neither  you  nor  Prudence  can  have  much  regard 
for  your  neighbors  because  of  their  bad  treatment  of 
Jarl  2" 

"  That's  a  fact." 

"  You  would  prefer  good  neighbors  2" 

"  Yes." 

"  Jarl  can' t  get  an  education  here  2" 

"  It  seems  not." 

"  Nor  learn  a  trade  here  ;  or  do  business,  even  if 
he  had  a  trade?" 

"  No." 

"  Then  it's  a  sure  thing  that  he  must  go  away,  and 
stay  away  all  his  life  2" 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  Then  he  ought  to  go  soon,  the  sooner  the 
better." 

«  Why  2" 

"  In  order  that  he  may  get  an  education,  and  learn 
a  trade.  "When  he's  a  man  it'll  be  too  late." 

"  That's  so  !     That's  so  !" 


90  TAACREDI. 

"  And  he  ought  to  go  away  so  far  that  the  absurd 
prejudices  of  this  neighborhood  will  not  follow  him  ?" 

"  That  sounds  right ;  I  think  it  is  right." 

"  Prudence  wishes  to  leave  ?" 

"Oh,  yes;  Prudy's  as  tired  of  this  place  as  Jarl 
is." 

"  You  love  her  and  Jarl,  and  want  to  do  all  you 
can  to  make  them  happy  ?" 

"Certainly!     Certainly!" 

"Jarl  must  go,  and  go  he  will;  there's  no  help 
against  that.  Can  you  bear  to  see  him  go  alone  ?" 

"  Tore  God,  no,  Duval !" 

"  Then  in  the  name  of  God  what  do  you  want  to 
stay  here  for  ?" 

The  old  man  sat  with  fingers  locked  around  his 
knees,  and  twirling  his  thumbs  over  and  over  each 
other,  as  if  unravelling  a  tangled  skein. 

Presently  he  looked  up  with  a  perplexed  air,  and 
said  : 

"  Duval,  you've  got  me  so  through  each  other  that 
I  don't  know  which  from  t'other !" 

Nate  was  bewildered,  but  it  was  not  the  kind  of 
bewilderment  he  said  it  was.  It  was  true  that  Duval 
had  put  him  ''through  other,"  and  he  was  correct 
when  he  said  so.  The  truth  is,  the  subject  was  made 
as  clear  to  him  as  the  noon-day  sun  ;  too  clear,  for  it 
dazed  him  with  its  sudden  glare.  It  was  clear  to  him 


TANCREDI.  91 

that  Jarl  must  go,  and  equally  clear  that  it  was  his 
duty  to  go  with  Jarl ;  nay,  it  was  clear  to  him  that 
when  Jarl  went  nothing  could  keep  him  and  Prudence 
from  going  along.  But  still  the  unsophisticated  old 
fellow  was  puzzled  and  undecided. 

He  had  trusted  that  Duval  would,  somehow,  find  a 
way  out  of  the  difficulty  without  Jarl  going  away  ;  but 
when  the  trusted  arbitrator  spoke  so  decidedly  in  favor 
of  going,  he  was  overwhelmed  and  bewildered. 

Nate  Jackman  was  perplexed,  but  it  was  that  per- 
plexity felt  by  those  who,  often  toiling  in  one  spot  for 
threescore  years,  are  suddenly  driven  into  exile;  it  was 
the  amazement  felt  by  the  recluse  when  he  is  involun- 
tarily thrust  into  the  midst  of  the  great  world  of  which 
he  knows  little  or  nothing.  Duval's  decree  was,  to 
the  hale  old  man,  like  a  summons  of  death  for  a  trifling 
indisposition. 

"You  will  lose  nothing,  so  far  as  money  is  con- 
cerned," continued  Duval,  noticing  the  painful  indecis- 
ion of  his  old  friend.  "  You  must  gain  in  a  social  point 
of  view,  while  Jarl  gains  everything.  It  is  hard  for  him 
to  stay  here  and  submit  to  the  abuse  of  the  heartless 
people ;  and  my  word  for  it,  he  will  not  endure  such 
treatment  any  longer.  If  you  don't  go  away  he  will  go 
without  you,  and  he  will  be  justified  in  such  a  course. 
The  question  is,  ought  you  to  let  him  go  to  the  dogs, 
or  help  him  begin  life  anew  ?  I  think  you  should  stick 


93  TANCREDI. 

to  Jarl — he's  a  grand  boy,  and  will  make  a  grand  man. 
And  now  yon  have  my  opinion — my  advice." 

"  And  that  says  go." 

"Yes,  go!" 

"  Well,  go,  it  is,"  said  Jackman,  bravely,  stepping  to 
the  door  to  summon  the  children  that  they  might  hear 
the  ultimatum. 

"That's  settled,"  he  continued,  with  the  air  of  one 
who  has  got  through  with  a  hard  task. 

"I  have  another  favor  to  ask  of  you,  Duval." 

"Name,  it,"  said  Duval. 

"  I  want  yon  to  stand  by  me,  and  help  me  fix  up 
my  concerns.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  where  to  go,  for 
I  suppose  going  away  from  here  means  going  some- 
where else.  I've  heerd  of  people  going  away  bckase 
they  wanted  to  go  to  some  place,  but  I  never  before 
heerd  of  anybody  going  to  a  place  they  didn't  know 
where  it  was."  . 

The  first  step  was  to  close  with  the  thrifty  German, 
Dickson,  who  had  long  coveted  the  mill  property. 


TANCREDI.  93 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"  What  sorrows  gloomed  that  parting  day 
That  called  them  from  their  native  walks  away." 

WHEN  the  transfer  of  the  mill  property  was  made, 
and  after  the  household  effects  were  disposed  of,  Nate 
Jackrnan  began  to  take  on  a  new  character,  and  dis- 
play a  disposition  foreign  to  his  whole  antecedent 
life. 

He  had  been  noted  for  his  caution  and  tact.  He 
knew  well  how  to  attend  to  his  own  business,  which 
occupation  allowed  him  no  time  to  meddle  with  that 
of  his  neighbors.  This  trait  of  character  existed,  not 
so  much  from  natural  disposition  as  from  commercial 
inclination  and  business  necessity.  It  was  not  consti- 
tutional, but  was  acquired  by  long  and  profitable  prac- 
tice. It  was  a  business  principle  with  him  to  make  no 
enemies,  and  to  avoid  even  noticing  an  offence.  His 
whole  life  had  been  bent  on  making  the  mill  a  success, 
while  all  other  aims  and  objects  were  made  subsidiary 
to  this  one  central  fixed  object.  This  artful,  studied, 
and  stubborn  line  of  conduct  accounted  for  his  patient, 
long-suffering  demeanor  toward  those  who  persecuted 
Jarl. 


94  TANCBEDI. 

Bat  things  were  altered  now.  There  was  no 
longer  the  need  of  commercial  stoicism,  since  patron- 
age was  no  longer  an  object.  His  occupation  vas 
gone,  and  with  it  went  his  system  of  moral  philoso- 
phy. The  natural  proclivities  of  the  man  now  asserted 
themselves  unrestrained  by  fear  or  favor. 

He  not  only  remembered  the  bitter  tribulations  of 
the  past,  but  he  felt  that  his  neighbors  were  responsi- 
ble for  his  banishment  from  the  home  of  his  child- 
hood— the  one  spot  most  dear  and  sacred  to  him. 

His  neighbors  dropped  in  to  see  him  and  talk  over 
the  subject  of  his  going  away,  with  their  regrets,  for 
Jackman  was  universally  liked  as  a  miller,  and  his 
acquaintances  were  sincere  in  regretting  his  loss  to  the 
neighborhood.  But  he  now  charged  them,  one  and 
all,  with  hypocrisy  and  falsehood.  Those  who  had 
been  most  aggressive  in  persecuting  Jarl  were  perem- 
torily  ordered  away  from  the  premises. 

"I  hate  ye!  Git  out  of  my  sight  or  ye'll  get 
hurt !"  he  roared  at  them. 

Of  course  the  community  was  shocked.  It  always 
is  shocked  when  it  meets  with  merited  indignation. 
The  neighbors  were  astounded  at  the  change  in  the 
miller's  demeanor  toward  them,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped 
they  were  mortified  also.  It  is  certain  they  were  not 
contrite,  but  took  refuge  in  charging  Jackman  with 
being  crazy. 


TANCREDI.  93 

He  made  a  visit  to  the  school-house,  and  paid  his 
respects  to  the  schoolmaster  who  had  beaten  Jarl  so 
unmercifully.  He  gave  that  absolute  tyrant  such  a 
drubbing  with  his  hickory  cane  before  the  whole 
school  as  will  live  green  in  his  memory  to  his  dying 
day. 

N"ate  was  hauled  up  before  a  country  justice  of  the 
peace  to  answer  for  assault  and  battery.  It  was  the 
first  and  only  time  the  old  hero  was  "  sued."  He 
wanted  to  "fight  the  case,"  that  is,  make  a  legal  fight, 
but  Duval,  knowing  how  plain  the  case  was,  and  hav- 
ing a  wholesome  influence  over  him,  persuaded  him 
out  of  the  notion,  or,  rather,  mano3uvred  him  out  of 
it.  Nate  appeared  on  the  day  of  the  trial,  or  on  the 
day  the  docket  was  to  be  cleared,  and  he  thought  then, 
and  still  believes,  that  he  made  a  fight,  and  that  the 
trial  proceeded  in  the  regular  way. 

His  notion  of  a  lawsuit,  having  never  witnessed 
one,  was  that  it  must  be  a  kind  of  pitched  battle,  and, 
accordingly,  he  went  prepared  to  pitch  in.  Figura- 
tively he  had  on  his  war  paint.  He  wore  no  coat  and 
had  his  shirt  sleeves  rolled  up,  although  it  was  cold 
weather.  His  suspenders  were  tied  around  his  waist 
like  a  belt,  and  he  flourished  his  big  hickory  walking 
stick,  the  very  one  he  had  used  in  belaboring  the 
schoolmaster.  Thus  panoplied  lie  marched  to  the  seat 
of  war. 


96  TANCREDI. 

He  took  Jurl  along  with  him.  "  I  want  to  show 
'em  we  ain't  afeard.  I  want  to  see  if  the'll  lay  a  fin- 
ger on  you  when  I'm  around,"  he  said,  compressing 
his  lips,  and  tightening  his  grasp  on  the  hickory. 

The  entire  male  population  of  the  neighborhood 
was  assembled  at  the  squire's  office  in  expectancy  of 
fun,  for  the  mad  ways  of  the  miller  had  become  noto- 
rious. When  he  saw  the  crowd,  he  felt  that  they 
were  there  to  oppose  him,  but  he  defied  them  all.  It 
was  fortunate  that  Dtival  was  also  present  to  hold  him 
in  check,  or  his  disposition  to  crack  somebody's  head 
might  have  been  indulged  in. 

"  Stick  up  to  'em,  my  boy,"  he  said,  slapping  Jarl 
on  the  shoulder.  "  I'll  back  you — I'll  stand  by  you. 
Dang  'em,  don't  take  any  of  their  sass.  Dang  'em,  its 
our  turn  now." 

Thus  went  on  the  gray-headed  hero,  dancing  about 
like  a  belligerent  Irishman  at  Donnybrook  fair,  egging 
on  some  one  to  tread  on  his  coat-tail. 

"  Who  air  you  a  gapin'  at  ?  What  air  you  a  look- 
in'  at  me  for?"  he  asked,  sidling  up  to  Mr.  Liftal,  and 
shaking  his  fist  in  the  man's  face.  Duval  took  hold 
of  the  rampager,  and  warned  him  to  desist  or  the 
squire  would  send  him  to  jail  for  contempt  of  court. 

"  I'll  mind  you,  Duval,  but  I  kin  lick  Contempt 
and  Liftal  both  put  together." 

When  he  had  paid  his  fine  for  the  assault  on  the 


TANCKEDI.  97 

teacher,  lie  took  Jarl  by  the  hand,  scowled  on  the  court 
and  spectators,  and  moved  off  toward  home.  When 
he  got  outside,  some  one  sang  out  : 

"  Good-bye,  Nate  ;  if  you  call  that  going/' 

"  Yes  ;  I  call  that  goin','5  he  said,  turning  on  them. 
"  And  maybe  it  ain't  good  manners  forme  to  go  with- 
out sayin'  good-bye.  I'm  goin'.  Do  you  want  to  know 
why  I'  m  a  goin'?  I'll  tell  you  why  ;  it's  bekase  I 
never  want  to  see  the  likes  of  you  again.  I  call  ye 
mean.  D'ye  know  why  I  call  ye  mean?  It's  bekase 
you  air  mean." 

By  this  time  the  whole  crowd  was  out  of  the 
squire's  office  to  hear  the  only  public  speech  of  Date's 
life. 

"  But  d'ye  know  why  I'm  goin'  away  ?  Bekase 
you  abused  and  beat  and  worried  the  life  out  of  my 
poor  boy,  Jarl.  Do  you  see  him  ?  This  is  Jarl. 

"  Mr.  Liftel,  you  know  him.  You  told  your  son 
Casper  not  to  speak  to  Jarl  because  he  was  a  beggar's 
brat. 

"  Bowler,  you  know  Jarl.  You  wouldn't  let  your 
children  go  to  Sunday-school  bekase  Jarl  went. 

"Mr.  Tobby,  let  me  introduce  you  to  Jarl. 
You've  met  him  before,  do  you  say  ?  Don't  you 
mind,  you  blamed  him  for  stealing  your  watennillions, 
when  you  knowed  it  was  your  own  son,  Bob. 

"  Well,  if  that  ain't  Bob,  himself !     Why,  Bobby, 


98  TA.NCREDI. 

you  great  big  hulk  of  an  overgrown  calf — this  is  the 
little  boy  you  blacked  his  eye.  Maybe  you'd  like  to 
try  it  on  to-day  ?  Eh ! 

"  Mister  Kellim,  how  do  you  do  ?  You  have  met 
Jarl  before.  Do  you  think  he's  grown  much  since 
you  druv  him  out  your  front  gate  ?  It  was  your 
gate  then,  it  ain't  now,  is  it?  Too  bad,  ain't  it? 
Jarl  tried  to  save  you  from  wrack  and  ruin,  but  yon 
wouldn't  let  him,  would  you?  How  do  you  like  to 
haul  coal  in  a  one-hoss  cart  for  a  livin'? 

"  Yes,  men,  this  is  my  boy,  Jarl,"  continued  the 
red-faced  miller,  removing  the  boy's  cap,  telling  him 
to  look  up  and  not  be  afeared. 

"  This  is  Jarl,  the  boy  who  is  an  orphan.  He  aiivt 
got  no  father,  but  I'm  his  father  ;  nor  any  mother  but 
Prudy,  nor  any  friend  but  Mr.  Duval,  he's  his  friend. 
God  bless  him ! 

"  Ain't  you  proud  of  yourselves  for  abusiii'  and  a 
beatin'  this  lone  little  child,  as  I  took  to  raise  decent, 
like  one  of  my  own  ? 

"Look  at  him  !  "Where'll  you  find  a  better  look- 
ing or  a  braver  boy  ?  You  can't,  that's  all. 

"Liftal,  how's  his  nose  'long  side  of  Caspar's 
pug  3 

"Bobby  Tobby,  looke  here;  this  hair  ain't  red 
and  fuzzy  like  some  folk's — now,  is  it  ?" 

"  Jarl !"  exclaimed  Bob,  sneeringly,  wincing  under 


TANCREDI.  09 

the  old  man's  coarse  sarcasms,  "Is  that  all  the  name 
he's  got  ?  What  do  you  call  him  Jarl,  for  ?" 

"  Bekase  that's  his  name,  young  man  ;  it  ain't  Jarl 
Tobby,  nor  Tobby  Jarl." 

"We're  agoin'  away  to  find  Jarl's  parents,"  con- 
tinued the  old  man  in  a  softer,  kinder  key.  "  They 
are  great  and  rich  people  as  wouldn't  wipe  their  feet 
on  the  likes  of  you.  The  next  time  you  Bee  him  he 
will  be  rich  and  great,  and  he  won't  know  you  any 
more.  We  don't  know  you  from  this  time  out  for- 
ever and  ever !" 

Nate  extended  his  arms  and  spread  out  his  palms, 
as  if  throwing  off  his  enemies  for  all  time  to  come. 
He  then  turned  on  his  heel,  and,  holding  Jarl  by  the 
hand,  walked  rapidly  home,  where  the  fire  blazed  on  the 
hearth  for  the  last  time.  On  the  morrow  the  Jackmans 
were  to  depart  for  their  new  home. 

The  proceeds  of  the  sales,  together  with  a  sum  of 
ready  money  on  deposit,  amounted  to  over  twelve 
thousand  dollars.  The  major  part  was  invested  by 
Duval  in  a  way  that  would  insure  a  steady  but  small 
income,  sufficient,  with  strict  economy,  to  keep  the 
miller's  small  and  inexpensive  family  in  comfort. 

It  has  already  been  stated  that  William  Duval  had 
a  sister.  Her  name  was  Amelia  Heron,  a  childless 
widow,  living  in  Philadelphia.  She  was  her  brother's 
senior.  Her  husband  had  been  a  produce  merchant 


100  TANCEBDI, 

with  a  large  and  profitable  trade,  and  since  his  death 
she  carried  on  the  business  superintending  it  herself. 

Duval  wrote  her  a  letter,  giving  a  history  of  the  Jack- 
mans,  and  asking  her  to  aid  him  in  securing  for  them  a 
home  in  Philadelphia.  Of  Jarl  he  wrote,  "My  interest 
in  the  lad  is  founded  partly  on  pity,  and  partly  on 
sentiment  and  his  real  worthiness.  I  ask  you,  my  dear 
sister,  on  my  account,  to  take  some  trouble  to  serve^these 
deserving  people,  feeling  confident  that  your  kindness 
will  he  rewarded  when  you  come  to  know  them  as  I 
do." 

The  most  hearty  affection  existed  between  the 
brother  and  sister,  and  she  caught  the  sympathy  mani- 
fested in  her  brother's  letter.  She  wrote  a  reply  filled 
with  the  most  gracious  expressions  of  zeal  toward  those 
whom  she  termed  her  brother's  pilgrims. 

"There  is  at  this  moment," she  wrote, "a  comfor- 
table house  on  the  next  street,  which  I  have  already 
secured  at  a  moderate  rent." 

"I  have  long  been  anxious  to  follow  your  example 
and  retire  from  business,  but  the  trouble  has  been  to 
find  one  whom  I  can  trust  with  the  management  of 
my  affairs.  I  hope  to  find  in  your  miller  the  man  I 
want,  for  I  take  it  he  should  be  familiar  with  the 
grain  and  feed  business.  They  may  come  on  at  once." 

The  Jackmans  were  ready  to  start. 


TANCREDI.  101 

The  Duvals  had  driven  over  in  their  carriage, 
which  was  to  carry  the  pilgrims  to  the  railway  station. 

The  time  to  leave  is  up. 

Duval  is  very  quiet. 

His  wife  is  fussy  and  noisy. 

Charlotte  is  citing  and  listening  to  Jarl,  who  talks 
big  and  looks  brave. 

Prudence  is  busy  with  the  luggage. 

And  Nate,  what  of  him? 

Oh,  he  is  as  gentle  and  disconsolate  as  a  child  tak- 
ing its  last  look  at  its  dead  mother,  before  the  coffin 
lid  is  closed  clown  on  her  forever. 

He  has  been  going  in  and  out  of  the  old  mill  all 
the  morning,  like  a  lost  dog  in  search  of  its  master. 
He  draws  the  flood  gate,  when  the  great  wheel  turns 
groaning  on  its  ponderous  iron  gudgeons  and  sets  the 
mill  in  motion.  Then  he  smiles  at  the  rattle  and  roar 
of  the  toiling  giant.  He  shuts  off  the  rushing  waters, 
when  the  thunder  of  the  machinery  ceases,  and  the  old 
miller  stares  at  the  dead  Titan.  He  wanders  among 
the  bins  like  a  ghost  visiting  the  ancient  castle  of  its 
forefathers.  The  pigeons  flock  about  his  familiar  form, 
and  the  rats  grow  bolder  as  they  keep  him  company 
in  his  melancholy  tramp.  Then  he  started  like  a 
frightened  animal  and  fled  to  the  cottage,  where  he  sat 
gazing  into  the  fire  on  the  hearth.  Uneasy  there,  he 
took  clown  his  cane  and  wandered  out  the  front  gate. 


103  TANCREDI. 

Prudence  watched  him  till  he  sank  down  beside  a 
grave  away  off  on  the  distant  hill-side.  She  followed 
after,  and  came  back  leading  the  disconsolate  moital. 

Ah,  Prudence!  thoughless  maiden,  what  have  you 
done  ?  When  you  planned  your  scheme  of  migration 
little  you  dreamed  of  the  heartache  it  would  bring 
your  father.  Fulling  up  stakes  was  to  you,  as  to  all 
young  people,  an  easy  and  exciting  adventure;  to  him, 
and  to  all  old  people,  it  is  pulling  up  long  rooted  ties  ; 
it  is  tearing  out  heart-strings  that  were  fastened  and 
strengthened  by  the  slow  and  wholesome  growth  of 
sixty  long  years.  Migration  to  Nate  Jackman  was 
banishment;  dwelling  among  other  scenes,  be  they 
never  so  lovely,  was  exile.  Old  trees  do  not  bear 
transplanting ;  old  people  do  not  bear  migration.  . 

Farewell  to  the  cottage  where  he  was  born,  to  where 
he  brought  his  blushing  bride,  and  where  his  child  was 
born !  Farewell  to  the  Old  Mill  where  for  half  a 
century  he  had  ground  the  sweet  golden  grain !  And 
farewell  to  the  grave  of  his  wife !  Home,  sanctified  by 
toil,  beautified  by  love,  and  hallowed  by  death,  Farewell ! 

The  time  is  up ;  let  the  birds  of  passage  take  their 
flight. 

Prudence  would  have  given  the  world  to  stay  at  the 
old  mill.  That  awful  look  on  her  father's  face  weighed 
on  her  heaa't  like  lead  ;  that  solemn  look  was  an  accusa- 
tion against  her  soul. 


TANCREDI.  103 

It  was  too  late  to  drive  it  away  ;  the  mill  and  cot- 
tage belonged  to  strangers  now. 

Duval  sighed  as  he  felt  more  impressively  than  ever 
before,  the  solemn,  almost  awful  responsibility  he  had 
assumed  in  advising  the  miller  to  move  away.  The 
generous  Jarl  would  have  borne  with  years  of  disquiet 
if  he  could  have  stayed  with  his  foster-father  at  the  old 
home. 

Too  late!  Too  late!  Let  the  coach  drive  on.  The 
ties  are  broken,  the  cords  snapped  asunder,  the  heart- 
strings drawn  out  by  the  roots,  and  the  bewildered  old 
man,  bent  and  broken  in  an  hour  he  never  should  have 
seen,  is  lifted  into  the  carriage  and  driven  away.  His 
pale,  mournful  face  was  pressed  against  the  coach  win- 
dow, from  where  he  gazed  with  glassy  eyes  at  the  Old 
Mill,  until  the  brown  hill,  covered  with  the  leafless 
trees  of  winter,  shut  out  the  sight  forever. 


PAET  SECOND. 
FIDES  PUNICA. 


CHAPTER  XIT. 

"If  knowing  is  but  sorrow's  spy, 
'Twere  better  not  to  know." 

IF  they  but  knew  how  weak  she  was — she  the 
beautiful  woman  who  sang  with  the  eloquence  of  an 
angel !  Alas  that  beauty  and  frailty  should  so  often 
dwell  together  in  unity ! 

The  scene  was  one  of  splendor  and  gayety.  It  was 
the  reception  by  the  Italian  embassador  in  "Wash- 
ington. The  elegant  parlors  were  thronged  with  the 
beauty  and  talent,  local  and  transient,  of  the  gay 
American  capital. 

Among  the  honored  guests  present  was  Theodore 
Bannemead,  the  well-known  millionaire  of  Phila- 
delphia, and  his  handsome  daughter,  Miss  Alice.  She 
was  then  at  the  acme  of  popularity  as  the  reigning 
[104] 


TANCREDI.  105 

belle  of  the  Quaker  City.  The  heiress  of  her  father's 
immense  wealth,  and  endowed  with  beauty,  grace  and 
culture  of  a  superior  order  of  merit,  she  was  held  to  be 
a  most  attractive  ornament  in  the  fashionable  world 
in  which  she  moved.  No  assemblage  was  considered 
quite  bon  ton  without  her  patronage.  Her  dress  and 
style  were  the  envy  and  despair  of  the  women,  as  they 
were  the  rage  and  rapture  of  the  men.  More  than 
one  rival  beauty  desecrated,  and  more  than  one 
Adonis  worshiped  this  Yenus  of  fashion.  She  dis- 
dained her  rivals  and  graciously  received  the  homage 
of  her  devotees.  She  was  queen  of  the  beauties,  and 
smiled  on  the  tailor  moths  that  singed  their  wings 
from  buzzing  too  near  her  altar.  The  bedazzled 
victims  submitted  gracefully  to  the  scorching,  holding 
it  better  to  have  loved,  though  singed,  than  not  to 
have  loved  at  all.  Miss  Bannemead  was  a  coquette, 
heartless  and  heroic,  and  arrayed  cap-a-pie  with  love's 
glittering  armor,  though  her  weapons  beguiled  with 
their  polish,  or  were  artfully  concealed. 

As  with  all  coquettes  she  expected  that  the  con- 
quering hero  would  come  her  way  sooner  or  later,  and 
when  he  did  come  she  was  prepared  to  disarm  and 
hail  him  lord  and  master.  But  in  the  meantime, 
while  the  bridegroom  tarried,  she  kept  her  lamp 
trimmed  and  burning,  to  singe  the  butterflies  of 
fashion. 

5* 


106  TANCKEDI. 

Alas,  vain  girl !  the  time  came  all  too  soon  when 
the  last  victim  lay  scorched  under  thy  blaze  of  glory. 
The  right  one  had  come. 

On  the  night  of  the  Ambassador's  entertainment, 
Miss  Bannemead  was  present  and  radiant  in  her  majes- 
tic beauty. 

"  We  are  to  be  favored  wiz  a  zong  by  zee  Signorina 
Rosetta  Godardo,  zee  famous  Italian  cantatrice,"  said 
the  Vicomte  Bertrand,  a  decorated  attache  of  the 
French  Legation  at  Washington.  "  Will  you  permit 
me  zee  great  honaire,  Miss  Bannemead,  to  bring  you 
where  you  zee  music  can  more  enjoy  ?" 

She  took  his  arm  and  was  conducted  into  the 
adjoining  room,  where  a  celebrated  maestro  was  seated 
at  the  piano,  evidently  ready  to  begin  the  prelude. 
Standing  by  him  was  the  woman  who  was  to  sing. 

"What  black  eyes!"  exclaimed  Miss  Bannemead, 
as  her  own  met  for  an  instant  those  of  the  strange 
lady.  "  And  how  beautiful !  And  how  startling  her 
beauty  !  Don't  you  think  her  beauty  peculiar?"  she 
asked  the  count. 

"  Yes,  Miss ;  dark  skin,  zee  raven  hair,  eyes  so 
black !  That  the  Italian  for  beauty,  and  zee  pictur- 
esque." 

"Decidedly.  Does  she  remind  you  of  any  one  you 
have  met?"  she  asked,  looking  into  the  count's  face 
to  watch  as  well  as  hear  his  reply. 


TANCREDI.  107 

"  Pardon  me,  Miss  Bannemead  if  I  offend,  but  in 
her  I  behold  a  strong  resemblance  to  your  ladyship." 

"  Do  you  think  that  quite  a  compliment  ?"  she 
asked,  with  an  affected  feint  at  pouting. 

"  You  zall  pardon  me  ;  zee  compliment  is  not  in 
zee  dark  skin,  but  in  zee  eyes,  zee  hair,  zee  grand  con- 
tour," replied  the  Frenchman,  with  a  courtierly  shrug 
of  his  shoulders. 

The  viscount  was  right ;  there  were  points  of 
strong  resemblance  between  Alice  Bannemead  and 
Rosetta  Godardo.  The  difference  was  in  size  and 
complexion.  Miss  Bannemead  was  fair  as  white  ala- 
baster, her  figure  tall  and  queenlike  ;  the  Godardo  was 
a  dark  brunette,  and  petit  in  form. 

"  Who  is  she?"  asked  Miss  Bannemead. 

The  maestro  interrupted  with  the  prelude. 

The  song  was  the  Aria  from  Rigoletto,  "  Caro  nome 
che  il  mio  cor."  She  rendered  it  with  a  grace  and 
spirit  that  evinced  the  finished  artist,  while  her  rich 
and  mellow  notes  charmed  the  listeners,  who  mani- 
fested their  approval  by  applause,  perhaps  too  noisy 
and  long  continued.  She  declined  to  sing  more, 
although  the  demand  for  encore  was  hearty  and  loud. 
The  Italian  minister  introduced  her  to  the  guests. 

When  Miss  Bannemead  and  the  Italian  woman  met 
they  grasped  hands,  and  stood  looking  into  each 
other's  face  as  if  fascinated. 


108  TANCREDI. 

Was  it  fascination,  or  was  it  distrust  ? 

Is  it  possible  that  even  then  Fate  was  casting  its 
shadows  over  the  two  women? — the  impress  of  ihat 
occult  and  m}7sterious  fiat  which  binds  two  beings  in 
the  thrall  of  one  common  involuntary  destiny  ? 

Madam,  have  you  never  felt  an  unaccountable  fas- 
cination for  a  person  whom  you  have  met  for  the  first 
time?  You  may  not  like,  nay,  you  may  even  dislike, 
but  some  occult  force  allures  you  toward  that  person 
in  spite  of  your  judgment  or  your  will.  One  void  of 
emotion  will  scout  the  idea,  but  the  impression  with 
some  is  strong,  scout  who  may.  Like  love  for  an 
unworthy  person,  it  is  unaccountable. 

Or,  if  you  disdain  the  obscure  in  metaphysics,  you 
may  believe  that  the  two  women  shared  a  mutual 
interest  because  of  their  mutual  resemblance. 

"  Perdono  me,  Miss  Bannemead,  but  in  thy  eyes  I 
behold  mine,"  said  the  Italian  woman,  in  a  friendly 
voice. 

"  And  I  am  struck  with  your  resemblance  to  me, 
Signorina,"  replied  the  American. 

"  So  tells  me  my — my — spechio  ;  I  the  name  for- 
got," said  the  cantatrice,  holding  her  fan  before  her 
face  to  indicate  her  meaning. 

"  Your  mirror,"  familiarly  suggested  a  gentleman 
who  stood  near  her. 

"  Ah  !  My  mirrora ;  it  is  that.     This  my  friend  ; 


TANCREDI.  109 

with  me  across  the  sea  he  came.  Signer  Micliele  Tan- 
credi,"  said  Rosetta  Godardo,  introducing  that  gentle- 
man to  Miss  Bannemead. 

A  beautiful  man,  is  a  phrase  neither  required  nor 
warranted  by  usage  or  good  taste,  and  yet  to  say  that 
Michele  Tancredi  was  a  handsome  man,  falls  short  of 
conveying  a  full  appreciation  of  his  elegant  and  noble 
appearance.  Perfect  in  form  and  feature,  complete  in 
embellishments,  and  polished  in  manners,  he  was  calcu- 
lated to  create  a  sensation  wherever  he  went.  Eich, 
young  and  noble,  his  pathway  was  already  strewn  with 
hearts  and  sighs,  and  other  ponderable  and  imponder- 
able trophies  of  female  disaster.  Many  a  dusky 
beauty  in  the  land  of  olives  had  been  led  a  willing 
captive  by  his  charms  ;  hence  it  was  no  discredit  to 
Miss  Bannemead's  discernment  when  she  too  paid 
tribute  to  the  brilliant  Signor. 

The  admiration  seemed  mutual,  judging  from  the 
marked  politeness  shown  her  by  the  Signor  ;  the  two 
devoted  themselves  to  each  other  almost  exclusively 
during  the  remaining  part  of  the  evening. 

To  Miss  Alice  the  hours  flew  away  with  the  soft 
speed  of  soaring  doves,  and  to  the  enraptured  Italian 
each  melting  moment  precipitated  golden  opinions  of 
the  winsome  American  beauty. 

"  I  begin  to  feel  myself  native  and  to  the  mansion 
born,"  exclaimed  the  literary  bungler  and  love's 


110  TANCREDl 

exquisite,  in  a  tone  of  ecstacy.  "  I  sliall  be  no  more 
the  Italian;  the  American  to  be  I  am  resolved." 

"  Pray,  Signer,  when  did  you  arrive  at  this  sudden 
resolve  ?"  asked  Miss  Bannemead,  encouragingly. 

"  Since  when  here  I  came,  and  met  with  you,"  he 
answered,  in  a  soft  musical  voice. 

"  Ah,  indeed.  You  flatter  me ;  but  I  shall  not 
credit  your  declaration  until  I  hear  of  your  naturaliza- 
tion, and  that  takes  five  long  years." 

"  The  citizen  to  be — you  shall  see !  I  am  delighted 
with  this  conn  tree,  and  with  you." 

"  And  what  of  the  Signorina  ?  Will  she,  too, 
become  an  American  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  Godardo?  I  not  can  tell.  That  is  not 
for  me  to  tell,  for  I  know  not.  What  to  do  she,  is 
nought  to  me  ;  what  to  do  I,  is  nought  to  her." 

"Why,  you  brought  her  here,  so  she  told  me;  and 
surely  you  must  have  some  concern  for  each  other's 
actions." 

"  Not ;  Signorina  Godardo  is  the  cantatrice,  tlie 
artista,  and  to  her  art  belongs.  She  came  here  to 
engage  in  her  profession  for  livelihood,  but  I  have  no 
control  over  her  actions." 

"  Did  you  not  bring  her  over  the  sea  ?" 

"No;  she  came  to  fulfill  her  engagement,  and 
belongs  to  the  maestro — the  management.  In  the 
same  ship  sailed  I ;  that  is  all." 


TANCREDI.  Ill 

"  But  you  accompanied  her  to  this  city." 

11  The  minister  is  my  friend,  and  he  honor  me  with 
politeness  to  attend  the  reception  of  the  cantatrice,  his 
illustrious  country  woman — her  introduction  to  the 
American  public." 

The  Banneinead  carriage  was  announced,  when  the 
father  and  daughter  were  driven  away.  Tancredi 
politely  saw  them  off,  and  he  stood  gazing  after  them 
until  the  coach  was  lost  in  the  gloom  of  the  distant 
street. 

"  Michele,"  said  some  one  in  a  low  voice  near  him. 

He  turned  and  saw  the  Godardo  watching  him. 

"  Order  our  carriage,"  said  the  woman. 

They  were  driven  to  their  hotel,  where  they  retired 
to  their  rooms.  The  woman  was  sulky,  and  the  man 
sullen.  A  storm  in  Italian  was  brewing  between  the 
two  companions.  Let  us  contemplate  the  sighs  and 
tears  as  they  might  appear  to  Italian  eyes  and  ears. 

"  Thy  devotion  is  not  so  constant  on  this  side  the 
ocean,  Signor,"  said  the  woman,  as  she  fretfully  pulled 
at  her  gloves  in  removal. 

"  Devotion !  My  presence  in  this  strange  country, 
where  I  have  neither  business  nor  pleasure  except  to  be 
with  and  serve  you,  attests  my  devotion,"  replied  the 
man,  in  a  wounded  tone,  as  he  quietly  removed  hat 
and  cloak. 

"Was  it  serving  me  to  neglect  me  all  through  the 


112  TANCREDI. 

tedious  evening,  and  bestow  your  gallantries  on  Miss 
Bannemead?" 

"  I  was  considerate  of  your  interests.  It  would 
have  been  in  bad  taste  for  me  to  monopolize  you,  when 
I  saw  you  in  demand.  You  were  brought  here,  not  to 
meet  me,  but  the  American  public.  Surely  you  will 
not  complain  of  any  lack  of  attention  shown  you  !" 

"It  is  not  long  since  you  were  furious  if  you  did 
not  have  me  all  to  yourself ;  but  now — " 

"  But  now !  How  it  would  read  in  the  papers, 
the  cantatrice  was  monopolized  all  evening  by  an 
Italian  nobleman  !  These  Americans  are  so  different 
from  Europeans ;  they  are  so  prudent,  so  hospitable, 
so  circumspect,  that  I  believed  I  was  showing  you  a 
kindness  by  leaving  you  free  in  their  society." 

"  Yes ;  you  left  me  to  their  grating  ings  and  ouscs 
all  evening." 

"  You  must  learn  their  language." 

"  But  not  their  manners.  Do  you  think  Miss 
Bannemead  beautiful  ?" 

"  She  looks  like  you." 

"  Only  she  is  larger,  you  would  say.  You  have 
often  piqued  me  on  my  littleness;  does  her  size  please 
you  better  ?" 

"  Miss  Bannemead  is  a  queen  ;  you  are  a  fairy — 
my  own  fairy." 

"  Men  admire  fairies,  but  they  never  love  them. 


TANCREDI.  113 

They  laugh  at  fairies,  but  pay  their  homage  to 
queens." 

"  Yes,  to  fairy  queens.  You  are  my  fairy  and  my 
queen,  and  to  you  I  pay  my  homage." 

The  little  lady,  evidently  well  pleased  at  the 
flattery — the  flattery  spoken  so  low  and  soft  and  musi- 
cal, came  and  stood  beside  him  and  peered  into  his 
attractive  face. 

"We  start  for  New  York  to-morrow,"  she  said, 
satisfied  to  change  the  subject.  "  On  Monday  evening 
comes  my  debut,  and  on  the  following  Saturday  you 
sail  for  home.  I  want  to  have  you  with  me  all  the 
time  till  you  go  away." 

She  sat  on  a  low  stool  at  his  feet,  and  leaned  caress- 
ingly on  his  knees,  as  a  tired  child  clings  to  its 
friend. 

"  Rosetta,  I  shall  not  return  with  you  to  New 
York.  I  will  meet  you  there  on  Monday  and  be  pres- 
ent at  your  debut." 

The  child  unclasped  its  hands  from  the  support, 
and  sprang  to  its  feet  enraged. 

"  Not  going  back  with  me  to  New  York  !  May  I 
ask  why  ?" 

"  You  may  ask." 

"  Nay,  I  know  why ;  you  remain  to  visit  the 
Baimemead." 


114  TANCREDI. 

"  Wrong ;  she  returned  to  Philadelphia  on  the 
night  express." 

"  Tell  me,  then,  why  you  wish  to  remain  ?" 

"  You  have  heard  me  speak  of  a  friend  who  resides 
in  Philadelphia.  I  remain  over  to  visit  him,  and  shall 
visit  him  to-morrow." 

"  And  me — why  may  I  not  accompany  you  ?" 

"  It  is  not  necessary.  I  would  be  absent  from  you 
all  the  time  while  there,  leaving  you  to  mope  at  a 
strange  hotel.  You  must  return  to  New  York  to 
attend  your  rehearsals ;  for  you  know  the  maestro 
only  brought  you  here  to  advertise  you,  and  you  must 
return  with  him  in  the  morning." 

"I  know  !  I  know  !"  exclaimed  the  woman,  walk- 
ing to  the  mirror  and  viewing  herself  therein.  "  Miss 
Bannemead  lives  in  Philadelphia." 

"  She  does  ;  what  of  that  2" 

"  You  go  there  to  visit  her,"  she  exclaimed,  turn- 
ing fiercely  upon  him  her  marvelous  black  eyes  gleam- 
ing with  jealousy.  She  went  to  the  window  and  stood 
looking  out  at  the  ragged  clouds  wind-tossed  in  the 
cold  moonlight.  How  different  from  the  warm  fleecy 
clouds  floating  in  the  soft  skies  of  Italy  ! 

"  Michele,"  she  said,  after  a  long  silence.  "You 
wished  to  return  home  by  this  week's  steamer  ;  I  per- 
suaded you  to  stay  for  my  debut." 

"  Yes  ;  well,  why  do  you  speak  of  it  now  i" 


TANCREDI.  115 

"  You  may  start  home  this  week,  and  I'll  return 
with  you." 

"  I  shall  not  leave  America  for  some  time  ;  1  am 
thinking  of  remaining  here  permanently." 

"  That  is  sudden  !"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  low  voice, 
but  with  suppressed  astonishment.  She  came  again 
and  stood  before  him. 

"Did  the  Banuemead  so  soon  induce  you  to 
renounce  your  country  for  hers?  And  is  it  for  that 
siren  you  so  readily  fall  in  love  with  this  barbarous 
people  !  Oh,  for  shame !" 

"  How  absurd  !  What  puts  such  wild  fancies  in 
your  head  ?" 

"  Come  here  !"  she  said,  taking  him  by  the  hand, 
and  half-leading,  half-dragging  him  to  the  window. 
"  Michele,  look  out  at  that  sky.  See  the  clouds  torn 
and  drifting  before  the  cruel  winds!  How  cold  and 
black  and  broken  they  look  as  they  sweep  in  anger  out 
on  the  desolate  sea  !  They  are  flying  away  from  these 
cold  shores  to  our  own  sunny  clime,  where  they  will 
melt  into  fleeces  as  soft  and  warm  as  my  love  for  thee. 
Let  us  leave  with  the  clouds  these  cold  skies,  and 
follow  them  to  our  own  glad,  bright  Italia !" 

>4'Kosetta,  what  is  the  matter  with  thee  to-night?" 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  tell !  1  wish  I  never  had  come  to 
America.  I  wish  I  was  back  in  dear  Italy.  I  feel  so 
lonely  here.  Everything  and  everybody  is  so  cold 


116  TANCREDI. 

and  strange.  Thou  art  not  so  tender ;  everybody 
seems  to  draw  thee  away  from  me.  If  I  thought 
thou  art  to  be  won  by  that  Bannemead  I  would  kill 
her !" 

The  disconsolate  woman  threw  herself  on  the 
floor,  where  her  sobs  told  how  violent  and  dangerous 
she  might  become,  if  driven  hard.  Tancredi  saw  the 
menacing  danger,  and  assuaged  the  stricken  woman. 


TANCREDI.  117 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"  Heaven  has  no  rage  like  love  to  hatred  turned, 
Nor  hell  a  fury  like  a  woman  scorned." 

ROSETTA  GODARDO  \vas,  as  lias  already  been  indi- 
cated, a  professional  soprana  singer  in  Italian  opera. 
Though  quite  young  she  was  already  famous  in  the 
capitals  of  Europe.  A  celebrated  maestro  had  engaged 
her  to  appear  before  the  American  public,  which  she 
was  expected  to  take  by  storm.  The  time  was  fixed 
for  her  debut  in  New  York. 

Michele  Tancredi  and  Rosetta  Godardo  were 
natives  of  Naples,  Italy.  His  infatuation  for  the  fair 
songstress  had  induced  him  to  come  to  America. 
Indeed,  she  would  not  come  without  him.  He  was 
himself  a  most  accomplished  amateur  musician,  and  he 
possessed  a  voice  of  rare  richness  and  power.  Among 
musicians  he  was  reckoned  a  genius,  and  was  held  to 
be  an  authority  in  matters  relating  to  music  and  the 
lyric  stage.  He  was  intensely  Italian  in  taste  and 
style,  doubtless  because  he  was  an  Italian  and 
descended  from  ancestors  noted  for  their  musical 
talent  and  their  partialty  to  the  Italian  school.  As  he 


118  TANCKEDI. 

had  neither  the  inclination  nor  the  necessity  to  go  on 
the  stage,  he  contented  himself  with  employing  his 
musical  culture  in  swelling  his  already  formidable 
array  of  embellishments. 

It  was  through  his  fondness  of  music,  and  his 
familiarity  with  musicians,  that  he  first  became 
acquainted  with  and  then  enamored  of  Rosetta.  At 
a  charity  concert  given  in  his  native  city  he  sang  with 
her  a  duet,  which  created  a  sensation  even  in  that  land 
of  song.  It  was  said  by  those  who  heard  them  that 
their  blended  voices  was  as  the  singing  of  angels. 
Fabulous  was  the  sum  offered  him  to  appear  with  her 
111  opera,  an  offer  which  he  declined.  He  secured  for 
Rosetta  a  no  less  flattering  offer,  which  she  accepted. 
From  that  time  on  he  was  her  teacher,  patron,  lover 
and  companion. 

The  passion  for  each  other  was  mutual.  Her  love 
for  him  was  of  that  intense,  fiery  character,  peculiar 
to  southern  blood.  She  would  sit  entranced  under  the 
sound  of  his  magnificent  voice,  and  was  never  so 
happy  as  when  singing  with  him.  Great  arid  glo- 
rious might  have  been  their  career  had  he  been  poor, 
obscure,  or  even  ambitious.  But  alas  for  art,  alas  for 
morals,  and  alas  for  the  woman,  he  was  rich,  noble, 
and  void  of  ambition. 

As  with  impulsive  and  emotional  women,  love  to 
Eosetta  was  more  than  the  mating  instinct,  more  than 


TANCREDI.  119 

ambition ;  it  was  a  grand,  absorbing  passion,  which  led 
reason  captive,  and  thrust  aside  prudence  and  all 
thought  of  the  future.  She  was  not  exacting,  but  she 
was  jealous  ;  she  was  not  imprudent,  but  she  braved 
all  for  him,  and  exclusively  surrendered  herself  to  the 
luxury  of  lingering  in  the  smiles  of  the  man  she 
adored. 

Never  a  woman  loved  man  more  madly  than 
Kosetta  Godardo  loved  Michele  Tancredi.  It  was  not 
the  cautious,  secret  love  of  intrigue,  but  open,  trans- 
parent and  defiant.  So  well  was  her  passion  known 
that  he  was  constantly  consulted  concerning  her  pro- 
fessional engagements,  and  as  much  anxiety  was  felt 
for  his  condition  and  whereabouts  as  for  hers.  More 
than  once  she  had  disappointed  the  public  because 
Tancredi  had  disappointed  her.  If  he  was  with  her 
she  sang,  if  he  was  absent  he  was  hurried  on,  and  if 
his  arrival  was  not  timely,  there  was  no  singing  by 
her.  The  public  held  her  to  be  erratic  and  unreliable, 
it  was  because  she  was  true  and  steadfast  to  one 
individual,  and  only  one  in  all  the  world. 

The  knowledge  of  all  this  made  him  hesitate  before 
sending  her  back  to  New  York  without  him,  and 
against  her  will.  He  therefore  yielded,  and  consented 
that  she  might  stop  over  with  him  in  Philadelphia, 
while  he  made  his  proposed  visit  to  his  friend. 

The  truth  is  he  was  invited  and  had  promised  to 


120  TANCREUI. 

pay  a  visit  to  the  Bannemeads.  He  was  sorely 
annoyed  to  find  that  he  could  not  call  on  his  new 
acquaintance  without  a  jealous  mistress  at  his  heels. 
For  the  first  time  he  began  to  chafe  at  her  importun- 
ate surveillance,  and  to  sigh  for  that  freedom  so  often 
vainly  coveted  by  the  roue  tangled  in  the  toils  of  his 
own  indiscretions.  From  that  time  on  his  longing  and 
study  was  to  shake  off  the  thralldom,  which,  at  first  so 
delightful,  was  now  become  so  galling  and  embarrass- 
ing. 

The  two  companions  went  to  Philadelphia.  By 
strategy,  he  succeeded  in  escaping  from  the  clutches 
of  the  Signorina,  and  in  making  his  call  on  Miss 
Bannemead. 

That  lady  was  at  home,  but  if  she  expected  him, 
she  was  artful  enough  to  effectually  conceal  it.  The 
tact  and  coolness  which  had  made  her  so  successful  as 
the  coquette,  placed  her  at  once  at  a  familiar  ease  in 
the  presence  of  the  Signer.  She  received  him  as  she 
might  an  old  acquaintance.  The  inward  truth,  which 
she  so  well  concealed,  was  that  she  felt  highly  grati- 
fied at  the  distinguished  acquaintance  and  his  prompt- 
ness in  paying  court  to  her. 

In  the  dreamy  atmosphere  of  the  new  charmer  the 
glad  hours  flew  by  unheeded  by  the  Italian.  His 
attention  was  profound,  his  deference  broad,  and  his 
devotion  sublime ;  his  behaviour  filled  space  in  all 


TANCREDI.  121 

directions.  He  would  have  wooed,  but  the  lady,  true 
to  her  ruling  passion,  was  not  ready  to  be  won.  It 
was  present  joy  enough  to  feel  sure  of  conquest,  for 
ambition  had  made  the  calculation  and  settled  that  it 
should  be  a  conquest. 

A  servant  hastily  entered  the  room,  but  before  he 
could  speak,  a  woman  glided  past  him  and  stood  glar- 
ing at  them  in  imminent  wrath.  It  was  the  Godardo. 

A  wordy  encounter  took  place  between  her  and  her 
renegade  lover.  As  it  was  carried  on  in  the  Italian 
tongue,  Miss  Bannemead  was  spared  the  patent  mor- 
tification of  knowing  that  she  was  the  provoking  cause 
of  the  quarrel.  But  she  knew  it  all  the  same. 

The  cantatrice  marched  away  with  her  recalcitrant 
lover  to  the  hotel,  where  the  conflict  must  have  con- 
tinued, for  the  result  was  her  throwing  up  the  engage- 
ment with  the  opera  agent.  She  refused  to  even  talk 
of  going  on  the  stage. 

Tancredi,  driven  to  the  wall,  now  blazed  forth  and 
demanded  immediate  and  unconditional  separation. 
His  tenderness  for  her  was  turned  to  fear  and  hate. 
But  it  was  all  the  same  to  the  maddened  woman. 
The  more  he  repelled,  the  closer  she  clung,  until, 
worn  out  with  entreaty  and  threatening,  he  took  her 
with  him  to  New  York,  where  they  settled  down  like 
two  hostile  armies  after  a  drawn  battle. 

So  far  the  woman  had  the  better  of  it,  for,  while 
6 


122  TANCREDI. 

he  refused  to  return  with  her  to  Italy,  she  as  persis- 
tently refused  to  be  separated  from  him. 

At  the  end  of  a  week's  seige,  this  was  the  position 
in  which  Trancredi  found  himself. 

He  was  in  a  new  country  and  in  love  with  a  new 
woman.  But  the  woman  of  his  old  love  was  not 
shaken  off,  nor  was  the  prospect  for  getting  rid  of  her 
flattering.  Rosetta  persisted  in  refusing  to  fulfill  her 
operatic  engagement,  and  it  was  cancelled,  leaving 
her  entirely  on  his  hands.  She  would  not  return 
home  without  him,  she  would  not  stay  if  he  went,  she 
would  not  be  separated  from  him.  Concerning  this 
point  she  swore  in  her  fierce  way  that  she  might  die, 
but  compromise,  never. 

What  was  he  to  do?  He  had  tried  entreaty, 
exhausted  strategy,  bankrupted  threats  ;  she  outwitted 
and  outbraved  them  all. 

Should  he  fly  from  her?  This  was  practicable, 
but  there  were  many  reasons  why  he  should  not.  She 
was  a  woman,  a  stranger  in  the  land,  and  well  nigh 
penniless.  She  had  ventured  abroad  on  his  promise 
of  protection.  Roue  though  he  was,  he  still  retained 
a  business  sense  of  honor,  and  felt  the  binding  force 
of  his  commercial  obligations  to  her. 

She  was  a  woman,  violent  and  perverse  it  was  true, 
but  she  loved  him — how  much  none  knew  better  than 
he.  Intriguer  though  he  was,  his  heart  retained  the 


TAXCKEDI.  123 

memory  of  its  bygone  tenderness  when  she  alone  filled 
its  chorded  chambers. 

She  was  a  woman,  scorned  and  at  bay,  and  the 
observant  voluptuary  knew  well  what  was  in  her 
heart, ; — she  had  murder  there  for  him,  mischief  for 
herself.  She  was  a  blind  Samson  who  could,  and,  if 
driven  to  despair,  would,  pull  love's  temple  down  in 
one  promiscuous  ruin  about  his  head. 

At  the  then  present  time  Tancredi  dreaded  scandal, 
and  leaving  Rosetta  Godardo  by  flight  meant  scandal. 
He  had  transferred  his  affection  to  the  charming 
Bannemead,  and  scandal  would  utterly  destroy  his 
aspirations  in  that  quarter.  His  love  for  her,  or  His 
manifestation  of  the  same,  was  the  cause  of  his  present 
dilemma,  and  whatever  he  might  suffer,  or  what  other 
risks  he  might  run,  were  as  nothing  compared  to  the 
importance  of  keeping  his  intrigue  with  the  cantatrice 
from  the  public.  Miss  Bannemead  must  not  know  of 
the  liaison,  come  what  might.  If  he  harshly  dissolved 
his  relations  with  the  Godardo,  the  public,  and  through 
it  the  Philadelphia  belle,  would  discover  the  whole 
story.  If  he  sought  refuge  in  flight  it  would  cost  him 
his  new  love  adventure.  He  was  too  deeply  infatuated 
with  Alice  Bannemead  to  turn  away  from  her  forever. 
He  would  stay  and  conquer  destiny.  He  would  con- 
ciliate Rosetta,  and  trust  to  time  and  chance  to  favor 
his  ambition. 


124  TANCREDI. 

Accordingly  lie  seemingly  succumbed  to  the 
entreaties  of  the  earnest  woman,  and  began  treating 
her  with  Lis  wonted  consideration.  He  established  her 
in  a  cottage  in  a  suburb  of  New  York,  and  himself 
lodged  at  a  hotel. 


TANCREDI.  125 


'  CHAPTER  XIV. 


"  Thy  love  is  lust,  thy  friendship  all  a  cheat, 
Thy  smiles  hypocrisy  and  thy  words  deceit." 

WAS  Rosetta  Godardo  insane  ? 

Emotionally  her  miud  was  jangling  and  out  of 
tune,  because  of  jealousy.  Is  a  mind  in  such  a  state 
sane? 

She  had  never  held  a  check  on  her  passions,  she 
never  tried  to  control  her  emotions.  She  allowed  her 
fancy  and  feelings  to  run  away  with  reason,  and  she 
knew  of  nothing,  had  nothing,  to  curb  them  into 
restraint.  Jealousy  absorbed  her  being  when  love  was 
driven  out.  Is  jealousy  a  form  of  insanity  ? 

In  a  degree  it  is,  for  jealousy  is  unreason,  unreason- 
ing, and  unreasonable.  It  is  ever  attempting  to 
coerce  unwilling  love — love  that  will  not  be  coerced  ; 
and  jealousy  never  acts  from  a  rational  motive. 
These  are  traits  of  insanity. 

Hatred  or  love,  scorn  or  respect,  contempt  or 
esteem,  may  be  felt,  one  or  the  other,  and  one  at  a 
time,  and  by  one  sane  person  for  another  person  ;  but 
it  is  only  the  jealous  or  insane  who  can  feel  all  and 


126  TANCREDI. 

practice  all  at  the  same  time  toward  one  and  the  same 
individual. 

A  jealous  woman  should  not  be  despised,  but 
pitied ;  not  abused,  but  petted.  She  is  a  woman 
emotionally  insane.  Her  disease  demands  treatment. 
If  she  is  neglected,  worse  may  follow — she  may  become 
mentally  deranged. 

The  Italian  prima  donna  was  a  monomaniac,  but 
her  paramour  guessed  it  not.  To  him  she  was  a  per- 
verse and  ungrateful  woman.  His  mistake  was  worse 
than  insanity— it  was  criminal. 

He  detailed  two  of  his  servants  to  wait  on  her,  and 
spared  no  expense  to  make  her  abode  comfortable. 
One  day,  a  servant  brought  word  that  she  was  acting 
strangely,  and  begged  him  to  visit  her.  lie  went. 

She  welcomed  him  with  all  her  old  tenderness,  and 
began  at  once  to  talk  of  Italian  scenes,  of  orange 
groves  and  sunny  skies,  and  song,  and  home  life,  as 
though  they  were  back  in  their  old  land  she  loved  so 
well.  It  was  evident  that  she  was  delirious.  She  was 
dressed  out  in  one  of  her  stage  costumes  and  talked 
of  the  opera  in  which  she  believed  she  was  to  appear. 
Her  eyes  had  in  them  a  strange  glitter,  and  her  cheeks 
were  dusky  with  the  fires  of  fever. 

"  I  want  you  to  hear  me  sing,"  she  said  to  him  in 
her  native  tongue.  "  Oh,  I'll  surprise  you  !  I'm  sure 
you'll  be  proud  of  me  to-night !  And  don't  forget  the 


TANCREDI.  127 

flowers ;  mine  must  be  the  prettiest  and  the  sweetest. 
But  I  must  sing  for  you.  No,  they  call  me  ;  that  is 
my  cue  !  Stand  there !" 

"  You'll  hear  it  at  night, 
"When  the  moon  shineth  bright, 
You'll  hear  it  at  dawn, 
In  the  gray  twilight ; 
Though  none  knew  its  minstrel, 
Or  how  it  came  there. 
Listen !  Listen  I 
'Tis  the  harp  in  the  air! 

"  It  telleth  of  joys  that  are  faded  and  gone, 
It  tells  of  a  knight, 
Of  a  Moorish  maid, 
Of  a  broken  plight 
And  a  heart  betrayed. 
There!  There! 
List,  pilgrim,  list !     'Tis  the  harp  in  the  air  I" 

"No  words  can  fittingly  describe  the  wild  pathos, 
the  air  of  tender  desolateness,  the  wailing  despair  of 
the  poor  creature  as  she  poured  forth  the  song  to  her 
false  lover.  It  was  the  fitting  requiem  of  a  broken 
heart.  The  proud  man  bowed  his  head  and  wept  like 
a  child  at  the  contemplation  of  the  fair  ruins — the 
damnable  work  of  his  treachery. 

The  sight  of  the  stricken  woman  wrung  his  heart 
with  remorse,  and  he  resolved  then  and  there  to  make 
every  reparation  within  his  power.  He  dispatched 
for  medical  aid,  and  resorted  to  every  approved  means 


138  TANCREDI. 

to  serve  her  and  restore  her  to  health  and  reason.  He 
visited  her  daily,  and  was  in  every  way  concerned  for 
her  welfare.  After  many  anxious  days,  the  fever 
abated,  and  the  weighted  brain  once  again  lighted  up 
with  intelligence.  He  rejoiced  at  her  hopeful 
improvement,  and  at  that  critical  time  would  gladly 
have  quitted  with  her  the  New  World  forever. 

But  as  the  patient  slowly  progressed  toward  con- 
valescence his  remorse  began  to  wane,  until  at  length 
it  was  felt  only  as  a  hateful  dream.  By  the  time  con- 
valescence was  fully  established  his  inclination  to 
repair  the  wrong  done  her  was  gone,  and  he  began  to 
sigh  for  that  gay  world  wherein  he  had  been  so  bril- 
liant a  reveller.  When  remorse  was  dead  truant 
ambition  arose  from  its  grave,  and  visions  of  the  be- 
witching Bannemead  floated  before  his  imagination. 

Soon  after  the  physician  had  pronounced  Eosctta 
out  of  danger,  he  found  himself  in  Philadelphia.  Of 
course  his  visit  there  was  on  account  of  his  friend  and 
fellow  countryman  who  lived  in  that  city ;  but  how 
natural  it  was  to  think  of  Miss  Bannemead  while  in 
such  mesmeric  proximity  to  her  dwelling,  and  how 
excusable  for  him  to  reason  out  his  duty  to  call  upon 
her.  Common  etiquette  required  no  less,  he  thought ; 
indeed  his  abrupt  and  unceremonious  departure  from 
beneath  her  roof  made  it  in  a  sense  obligatory  on  him 


TANCREDI.  129 

to  visit  her  and  make  honorable  amends  for  his  dis- 
courteous conduct. 

He  was  admitted  to  the  lady's  presence. 

A  less  assured  or  less  experienced  inamorata  "would 
have  felt  and  probably  shown  embarrassment  on  enter- 
ing the  presence  of  his  lady  love  under  such  unpleasant 
circumstances.  Even  this  veteran,  who  had  managed 
many  affairs  of  the  heart  victoriously,  was  distrustful  of 
his  courage,  and  inwardly  trembled  with  anxiety  at 
his  possible  reception.  He  never  met  with  so  decided 
a  rebuff  as  at  the  hands  of  the  spirited  American  lady. 
While  it  is  true  her  scorn  and  haughtiness  did  not 
ruffle  a  single  feather  of  the  chevalier,  yet  he  was 
annoyed  and  chagrined.  And  yet  he  rather  enjoyed 
the  exhibition  of  American  pluck  ;  it  was  a  new  sensa- 
tion to  him.  Seldom  was  opposition  shown  him,  for 
he  ever  swam  the  tide  of  smooth,  easy  conquest.  Here 
was  a  beauty  who  disputed  his  supremacy,  but  her 
hauteur  only  irritated  his  vanity,  and  aroused  his 
determination  to  conquer  the  arrogant  woman. 

"  I  am  surprised,  Signor,"  she  said  with  disdainful 
voice  arid  flushed  cheeks,  "painfully  surprised  that 
you  should  attempt  to  renew  an  acquaintance  so  scan- 
dalously interrupted  when  last  you  honored  me  with  a 
visit.  I  flattered  myself  with  the  belief  that  yon 
would  spare  me  the  mortification  of  recalling  that  dis- 
6* 


ISO  TANCREDI. 

graceful  scene.  Your  presence  is  exceedingly  unpleas- 
ant to  me." 

"  JPerdono  mea,  Miss  Bannemead  ;  but  your  servant 
tell  me  you  are  at  home.  Did  lie  mistake,  or  did  you  ? 
The  mistake  is  not  by  me.  He  tell  me  you  are  at 
home  and  bring  me  here." 

The  lady  blushed  at  being  reminded  of  her  awk- 
ward, if  not  inconsisted  behavior,  for  being  at  home 
meant  tacit  and  voluntary  permission  given  the  Signer 
to  visit  her.  She  had  given  him  audience  at  her  own 
option,  she  could  not  dispute  that  fact,  and  could  only 
bite  her  lips  at  being  detected  in  so  palpable  a  blunder. 
She  was  compelled  to  blame  herself,  even  if  she  could 
not  pardon  him. 

"  Since  you  are  here,  Signer,  I  shall  indulge  you  so 
far  as  to  hear  your  explanation  of  the  extraordinary 
scene  which  took  place  in  this  roo'm  at  your  late  visit," 
she  embarrassingly  replied. 

"  What  shall  I  explain  ?" 

"  Explain  away  the  wrong  you  did  me,  if  you  can." 

"  Good  heavens  ?  Miss  Bannemead  ;  hear  I  what ! 
"Wronged  you  !  How  ?  Speak  !  See  the  apology  at 
thy  feet !"  exclaimed  the  Italian,  kneeling  before  her, 
with  his  hand  over  his  heart,  and  contrition  limned 
over  his  handsome  features. 

"Do  you  pretend   ignorance   of   the    offense   to 


TANCREDI.  131 

which  I  refer  ?"  she  asked,  unmoved  by  his  tragic 
repentance. 

"  Ignorant !  Yes,  Madame,  ignorant !  How  could 
I  knowingly  offend  where  I  worship  ?" 

"  Then,  Sir,  make  no  attempt  to  explain,  since  yon 
are  unconscious  of  having  committed  an  offense.  Rise, 
Sir ;  you  mock  me  !" 

She  was  now  thoroughly  angry.  She  turned  from 
him  in  disdain,  and  stood  by  the  window  gazing 
abstractedly  out  on  the  street. 

"Oh,  now  to  see,  I  begin!  You  speak  of  the 
intrusion — the  child — the  Godardo — into  this  house, 
when  last  I  had  the  honor  of  calling  on  you?  Is  it 
that?" 

"  Your  memory  begins  to  serve  you,"  she  replied, 
contemptuously,  without  turning  from  the  window. 

"And  that  the  offense  is?" 

"Is  not  that  sufficient  cause  for  offense?" 

"Perdono  mea,  no.  It  misunderstood  by  you, 
and  your  resentment  comes  by  that.  It  makes  me 
much  satisfaction  when  you  permit  me  explain  the 
mistake ;  which  I  can  do — which  I  will  do  ;  for  am  I 
not  right  to  make  myself  heard  where  BO  evil  I  am 
judged?" 

"  I  shall  not  prevent  you  from  explaining,"  she 
coldly  answered,  still  looking  out  the  window. 

"  Signorina  came  here  to  make  complaint  of  the 


132  TANCREDI. 

command, — of  the  insult,  which  she  receive  from  the 
manager  ordering  her  to  go  instantly  to  New  York. 
She  not  like  that.  She  not  used  to  be  ordered  about 
like  the  slave.  She  very  angree  ;  and  she  come  to  me. 
She  know  where  I  was — I  tell  her  that.  What  she 
tell  me  make  me  very  angree,  too,  for  the  poor  girl. 
We  both  furious,  and  we  abuse  the  tyrant,  the  maes- 
tro, in  your  presence.  That  why  she  came  so  sudden  ; 
that  why  we  depart  so  unceremonious." 

She  had  turned  away  from  the  window  while  he 
was  delivering  his  explanation,  and  looked  at  him  with 
a  quizzical  expression  made  up  of  scorn  and  admira- 
tion— scorn  at  his  falsity,  admiration  at  his  ingenuity 
and  audacity.  Mephistopheles  was  no  longer  a  myth. 

Did  she  believe  him?  And  did  she  accept  his 
statement  as  true  ?  To  the  credit  of  her  head  she 
believed  not  a  word  ;  to  the  discredit  of  her  moral 
sense  she  accepted  his  statement  as  the  true  and  sat- 
isfactory explanation. 

And,  after  all,  what  was  he  or  his  quarrels  to  her? 

His  baseness  and  brazenness  deserved  punishment, 
and  the  punishment  that  would  mortify  him  most, 
would  be  to  encourage  him  —  raise  his  hopes  to  the 
clouds  and  then  dash  them  on  the  rocks.  This  proud, 
presuming  man  must  have  a  fall,  and  such  a  fall  as 
would  knock  all  egotism  out  of  him. 

On  her  velvet    specimen   tablet  was  just    room 


TANCREDI.  ,133 

enough  for  one  more  moth,  and  this  gilded  butterfly 
must  be  pinioned  there. 

"Your  explanation  is  entirely  satisfactory,  and  I 
absolve  you  from  all  blame,"  she  said,  extending  her 
hand  and  smiling  forgiveness  on  the  enraptured  noble- 
man. 

He  gracefully  kissed  the  hand  and  received  his 
absolution  with  joy. 

"  And  the  Signorina,  she  did  not  appear  in  opera, 
as  announced  ;  may  I  ask  why  ?" 

"  She  not  used  to  the  tyrant,  the  maestro.  His 
treatment  she  not  can  stand.  She  go  cancel  the 
engagement." 

"I  hear  she  is  ill;  is  it  true?" 

"  I  know  not.  She  back  to  Italy  gone.  She  sing 
never  in  this  countree." 

"  And  you  ?    You  did  not  return  with  her  to  Italy  ? " 

"  Why  should  I  ?  This  is  my  countree.  Here  I 
stay,  for  here  my  queen  I  find." 

The  tete-d-tete  on  this  occasion  was  not  interrupted. 
Their  talk  was  common-place,  on  safe  subjects  —  the 
weather,  the  crops,  kindred  topics,  and  therefore 
harmless.  The  Signor  was  inclined  to  be  amorously 
demonstrative,  but  the  lady  suppressed  his  ardor,  and 
led  him  gently  back  to  and  along  the  more  prosy  path 
so  well  beaten  by  people  of  small  talk.  Their  maudlin 
vocal  essences  are  not  attempted  here  ;  such  colloquies 


134  TANCREDI 

are  more  difficult  to  reproduce  than  Newton's  calculus, 
orKeplar's  Laws  ;  besides  their  narration  would  destroy 
the  harmony  of  this  book,  which  is  Love  without 
Labor. 

The  long  tedious  convalescence  of  Rosetta  was  to 
Tancredi  the  golden  opportunity,  which  he  cultivated 
industriously  and  successfully.  One  day  found  him 
in  the  sick  chamber  of  his  mistress,  the  next  at  the 
feet  of  the  Bannemead. 

His  passion  for  the  latter  increased  on  acquaint- 
ance, and  presently  became  so  all  absorbing  that  he 
made  a  formal  declaration  of  his  love,  and  begged  her 
hand  in  marriage.  This  prayer  remained  unanswered 
for  some  time. 

Theodore  Bannemead  had  made  the  necessary  in- 
quiries into  Tancredi's  antecedents  and  had  found 
them  highly  satisfactory.  But  still  the  daughter  pro- 
crastinated the  answer  from  day  to  day.  One  day  she 
would  be  cold  or  exacting,  sullen  or  stormy,  the  next 
she  would  be  affable,  even  tender,  and  drive  her  lover 
mad  with  her  smiles.  She  was  an  enigma  to  him,  but 
none  the  less  adorable.  Her  very  whims  and  moods 
were  charming,  and  even  her  imperious  tyrannies 
tightened  and  strengthened  the  chain  that  enslaved  him. 

Her  initial  plan  contemplated  the  elation  of  his 
hopes  heavenward,  followed  by  the  sudden  clash 
toward  the  other  extreme;  but  she  hesitated  to 


TANCREDI.  135 

carry  out  that  plan,  now  that  the  crisis  had  come. 
Jilting  lovers,  after  luring  them  on  to  a  pro- 
posal, had  become  such  a  habit  with  her,  that  she 
almost  ached  to  see  how  wretched  and  crestfallen  this 
noble  lover  would  be  by  the  declination  of  his  pro- 
posal. 

The  time  was  ripe  for  springing  the  trap  ;  the  Ital- 
ian's downfall  must  be  immediate  or  never.  But  she 
hesitated,  and  the  woman  who  hesitates  is  in  love. 

Her  feelings  and  designs  in  relation  to  Tancredi 
•were  modified  since  the  day  she  resolved  to  entice  him, 
none  knew  how  better  than  she,  but  she  was  not  clear 
about  the  part  where  the  ruin  came  in.  His  dis- 
tinguished appearance,  seductive  manners,  noble  birth, 
exalted  station,  and,  last  and  greatest  of  all,  his  devo- 
tion to  her,  had  jointly  combined  to  weave  about  her  a 
web,  which  for  strength  would  have  astonished  her 
had  she  attempted  to  hurl  him  on  the  metaphorical 
rocks  suggested  by  her  vengeance. 

He  had  danced  attendance  at  her  court,  had  been 
her  gallant  at  fashionable  assemblages,  had  been 
patient,  delicate,  zealous,  and  in  every  way  exemplary. 
She  could  not  help  admiring  him.  Her  father  was 
pronounced  in  his  liking  for  the  man,  the  fashionable 
world  held  them  betrothed  lovers,  other  moths  had 
forsaken  her  shrine  and  blazed  at  other  altars,  her 
friends  held  it  a  splendid  mutch.  In  brief,  pride,  con- 


136  TANCREDI. 

venience,  and  ambition  sanctioned  the  union  of  her 
destiny  with  that  of  the  Italian.  She  concluded  to 
procrastinate  no  longer ;  she  made  up  her  mind  to 
accept  the  hand  of  Michele  Tancredi. 

Arrived  at  this  conclusion,  she  discovered  that  she 
liked  him  better  than  she  did  any  one  else  ;  as  much 
as  a  woman  ought  to  like  any  man. 

It  was  aji  afternoon  in  the  middle  of  March.  The 
Signor  was  seated  in  the  company  of  Miss  Bannemead 
at  her  home  on  Walnut  Street. 

"  This  horrid  weather  1"  exclaimed  Tancredi,  eye- 
ing with  dismay  the  single  speck  of  mud  on  his  imma- 
culate boots.  "  At  Naples,  there  is  no  frost,  no  mud. 
There  the  trees  are  in  bloom,  and  the  people  are  rest- 
ing in  the  shade  of  the  olives." 

"Don't  you  wish  you  were  in  Naples  at  this 
moment?"  asked  Miss  Bannemead,  laughing  at  his 
anno}Tance. 

"  Shall  I  say  it  ?     Yes,  with  you." 

He  took  her  hand  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips 

"  Oh,  I  would  prefer  Venice  to  Naples.  I  have 
heard  so  much  of  the  gondoliers  and  their  romantic 
songs  I  could  float  all  day  in  the  bright  sunlight,  or 
under  the  cool  shadows  of  the  marble  palaces,  and  drink 
in  the  songs  of  the  boatmen.  And  O  !  what  moon- 
light must  be  in  the  City  of  the  Sea !" 

"But  Naples  !      You  should  see  rny  Naples  !  Ah, 


TANCREDI.  137 

my  darling,  the  sun  shines  brighter  there,  the  moon- 
light falls  softer  there  !  And  the  boatmen's  songs  on 
the  bay  !  How  shall  I  make  you  hear  their  music  ? 
But  one  way  there  is — to  take  you  there.  O,  give  me 
my  bright,  glorious  Naples — and  you  !  It  shall  be — 
when  ?  Don't  make  me  longer  the  miserable  !  Name 
the  happy  day." 

"  For  your  departure  to  Naples  ?" 

"  Yes;  accompanied  by  my  queen,  my  wife." 

"  What !     To  remain  there  always !" 

"  To  remain  where  you  will,  so  I  am  with  yon. 
Wherever  you  are  most  happy,  there  also  shall  be  my 
happiness." 

"  And  you  won't  insist  on  keeping  me  in  Italy  one 
day  longer  than  is  agreeable  to  me  ?" 

"Certainly  not,  my  darling." 

"  That  is  kind  of  you,  for  I  love  my  own  dear 
Philadelphia  as  fondly  as  you  love  your  Naples.  My 
home  must  ever  be  here." 

"  And  here  shall  be  my  -home,  if  it  best  pleases 
you." 

"  You  agree  then  that  I  shall  be  allowed  to  dwell 
in  this  city  as  long  as  I  wish." 

"  To  that  I  agree." 

"  Then,  there's  my  hand.  It  is  yours — in  Phila- 
delphia." 

"  It  is  mine  all  over  the  world  !      By  it  I  lead  you 


138  TANCREDI. 

to  visit  ray  Italy,  my  Naples,  and,  if  it  pleases  you. 
Venice  too." 

"  O  yes,  I  shall  be  delighted.  We'll  make  the 
grand  tour,  of  course." 

"Shall  it  be— when?  The  April  that  is  to 
come  ?" 

"  That  is  too  soon.     April  is  a  tearful  month." 

"April  .too  sudden  and  too  sad?  Then  May? 
Sure  that  a  sweet  month." 

"Hike  June  better." 

"  Oh  !  You  like  June  better  ?  So  do  I.  Shall  it 
be  June  ?  Shall  we  be  married  in  June  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  there,  I  have  said  it ;  does  it  suit  you  ?" 

"Does  heaven  suit  me?  Does  it  suit  me — the 
angel,  the  best  angel  there  ?" 

The  lovers  joined  hands  and  put  their  heads 
together  to  perfect  the  details  of  the  grand  event. 

The  next  day  found  him  in  the  presence  of  Rosetta 
Godardo. 

"  How  well  the  roses  aie  coming  back  to  thy 
cheeks,  pretty  one !"  he  said  in  Italian. 

"  I  rejoice  to  hear  thee  say  so.  But  art  thou  in 
right  earnest,  and  look  I  so  well  ?  Berta,  bring  me 
my  mirror ;  I  must  see  if  thou  mocks' t  me,"  replied 
Rosetta,  pleased  at  his  notice  and  encouragement. 

She  turned  the  small  glass  about,  viewing  herself 


TANCREDI.  130 

therein  with  such  a  woe-begone  expression  that  the 
maid  out  of  pity  took  the  mirror  from  her  hand. 

"  My  prettincss  is  coming  back  slowly,  very  slowly, 
and  I  fear  me  some  of  it  will  tarry  on  the  way." 

"  Foolish  Rosetta  ?  It  will  return  with  more 
bloom  than  ever." 

"  Believest  thou  so  ?  I  wish  it  for  thy  sake. 
Michele,  dos't  ever  hear  of  the  Bannemead  ?" 

"No,  my  little  one;  she  is  in  thy  thoughts;  why 
is  she  there  ?" 

"  1  feel  that  she  must  be  handsomer  than  ever, 
since  it  was  she  who  stole  my  beauty." 

"  What  a  superstitious  child  it  is  !  What  put  such 
absurd  fancies  into  thy  head  ?" 

"  Dos't  think  I  grow  stronger  every  day  ?" 

"  Nay,  I  am  sure.  Thou  wilt  soon  be  strong 
enough  to  ride  out  with  me." 

"  O,  what  joy  !  Strong  enough  to  ride  out,  and 
with  thee  !  What  joy." 

"  Yes,  my  little  beauty,  with  me." 

"  Then  it  will  not  be  long  until  we  shall  sail  for 
our  own  dear,  warm,  bright  Italia.  Oh,  what  joy !" 


140  TANCREDI. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  For  never,  I  swear  by  ray  mistress  whom  I  revere  most  of 
all,  and  have  chosen  for  my  assistant,  Hecate,  who  dwells  in  the 
inmost  recesses  of  my  house,  shall  any  one  of  them  wring  my 
heart  with  grief  with  impunity." — EURIPIDES. 

TANCKEDI  led  two  lives  ;  one  for  the  Godardo,  the 
other  for  Banneraead.  Both  lives  were  successful, 
reckoned  from  the  standpoint  of  his  motive.  His 
motive  was  Satanic.  His  object  was  to  deceive  both 
women,  and  he  succeeded. 

He  was  more  completely  successful  in  deluding  the 
Godardo,  at  least  his  treachery  wounded  her  deepest. 
His  double  dealing  with  her  was  the  more  flagrant  and 
heinous,  because  she  was  more  entitled  to  good  treat- 
ment. His  treatment  of  her  should  have  been  the 
best ;  he  gave  her  the  worst.  He  should  have  been 
true  to  her,  although  he  was  false  to  all  the  world 
besides.  She  lived  in  and  on  his  faith — it  was  Punic 
Faith. 

Godardo's  love  for  him  was  superlative,  yet  he 
elected  her  to  be  cheated,  and  robbed  and  broken. 
The  love  the  other  woman  bore  him  scarcely  deserved 
the  name ;  her  attachment  was  recent,  and  the  result 


TANCREDI.  141 

of  pride  and  ambition,  yet  he  laid  at  her  feet  the  offer- 
ing of  a  noble  name,  he  surrendered  to  her  his  heart 
and  hand. 

Godardo  continued  to  languish  for  months,  and  it 
was  the  glad  summer  time  before  she  was  strong 
enough  to  ride  out  in  the  open  air.  As  convalescence 
became  more  fully  established  she  took  deeper  interest 
in  her  lover's  behavior,  and  grew  more  exacting  of  his 
time  and  attention.  His  more  and  more  infrequent 
and  hurried  visits  were  noticed  and  commented  on  by 
her,  but  the  wrecked  woman  was  powerless  to  actively 
molest  him. 

He  trembled  as  he  watched  her  grow  strong,  and 
as  the  flush  of  returning  health  crept  over  her  cheeks, 
the  ashen  hue  of  dread  grew  on  his  brown  face.  He 
realized  fully  what  would  be  the  reckoning  should  his 
perfidy  become  known  to  her.  His  hope  had  been,  as 
were  his  efforts,  to  prevent  her  from  learning  of  his 
visits  to  his  affianced.  So  far  he  had  been  successful. 
If  he  could  only  keep  her  ignorant  for  a  brief  time 
he  would  be  married,  with  the  sea  between  him  and 
her  wrath.  Even  in  this  he  almost  succeeded. 

He  had  now  been  married  a  week,  and  yet  was  no 
further  on  his  voyage  than  New  York.  The  sudden 
and  unexpected  death  of  his  wife's  aunt  on  the  day 
after  the  wedding,  had  delayed  the  trip  abroad,  and 
the  time  for  departure  was  postponed  two  weeks. 


142  TANCREDI. 

One  more  week  of  suspense  and  dread,  at  the  end 
of  which,  if  .Rosetta  could  be  kept  at  home,  he  would 
be  on  shipboard  moving  away  from  her  anger.  The 
ashy  hue  of  dread  deepened  on  his  dusky  face. 

His  trusty  servant,  Berta,  Eosetta's  maid,  had  been 
instructed  to  keep  a  close  surveillance  over  the  sick 
woman,  and  prevent  her  from  seeing  the  newspapers, 
which  were  filled  with  accounts  of  the  marriage  in 
high  life. 

How  she  evaded  them  none  knew,  but  she  did  dis- 
cover that  the  marriage  had  been  consummated,  and 
then,  oh,  then  ! 

Ocean  storms  and  desert  simoons  have  been  so 
graphically  delineated  with  pen  and  pencil  that  one 
almost  feels  the  earth  tremble  under  the  fury  of  the 
maddened  elements.  What  pen  can  describe  the 
storm  that  swept  over  this  forsaken  woman,  what 
pencil  portray  the  simoon  that  plowed  across  the 
desert  of  her  life?  As  she  loved,  blindly,  furiously, 
so  did  she  rage,  now  that  love  was  dead.  The  poet 
who  wrote 

"  Heaven  has  no  rage  like  love  to  hatred  turned, 
Nor  hell  a  fury  like  a  woman  scorned," 

must  have  felt  the  wrath  of  a  jilted  woman. 

The  well-disciplined  Berta  'gave  Tancredi  timely 
warning  of  the  raging  storm,  and  he  kept  under 


TANCREDI.  143 

shelter.  Rosetta  sent  for  him,  but  he  came  not ;  when 
she  started  out  to  hunt  him  down,  wearing  a  stage 
dagger,  his  gift,  in  her  emaciated  bosom. 

Failing  to  find  him  in  New  York  she  visited  Phil- 
adelphia. Gone  to  New  York,  the  domestics  told  her, 
and  back  to  that  city  hied  the  human  sleuthhound. 
She  visited  the  hotels  during  the  day,  and  wandered 
among  the  theatres  at  night,  seeking  her  prey.  The 
pretty  woman  with  eyes  like  a  wild  beast's  attracted 
notice  wherever  she  went,  but  none  learned  her  name 
or  her  errand.  One  evening  a  woman  fainted  in 
Niblo's  Garden  Theatre,  and  she  was  carried  into  the 
adjoining  hotel.  It  was  the  Godardo. 

On  the  next  day  a  party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen 
were  assembled  in  the  same  hotel  to  say  ~bon  voyage  to 
Signer  Tancredi  and  his  wife,  who  were  to  sail  for 
Europe  that  day.  In  the  midst  of  the  salutations  and 
farewells  a  veiled  woman  entered  the  room  and  stood 
unnoticed  among  the  guests,  until  she  raised  a  glitter- 
ing dagger  and  struck  the  bridegroom  a  vicious  blow. 
The  ladies  screamed,  the  gentlemen  caught  the  assas- 
sin's arm  and  tore  away  her  veil,  revealing  to  the 
astonished  group  the  haggard  face  of  the  Italian  canta- 
trice. 

Madame  Tancredi  saw  and  recognized  that  terrible 
face,  and  fainted  away.  The  Godardo  was  thrust 
from  the  room,  The  Signer  would  not  wait  to  have 


144  TANCREDI. 

his  arm  dressed,  but  ordered  his  servants  to  bear  his 
unconscious  wife  to  the  carriage  in  waiting ;  when 
they  were  rapidly  driven  to  the  pier,  where  they 
embarked  on  the  steamer. 

He  instructed  the  officers  of  the  ship  to  prevent 
the  ingress  of  a  women  whose  personal  appearance  he 
described.  A  lookout  was  kept  for  her,  but  she  came 
not. 

As  the  falling  darkness  gathered  over  the  Ameri- 
can hills  the  good  ship  turned  her  prow  toward  the 
open  sea,  and  the  Italian  breathed  free  once  more. 

But  the  trouble  with  the  other  woman,  who  was 
now  his  wife  began,  and  it  lasted  for  some  time.  The 
Tancredi  had  a  rough  voyage ;  it  stormed  without  and 
stormed  within.  The  fainting  fit  of  Madam  went  off  in 
hysterical  sobs  and  tears.  The  guilt-stricken  husband 
kept  out  of  her  way,  and  each  passed  the  first  night  of 
the  voyage  in  solitary  and  nauseous  meditation.  On  the 
following  day  the  sea-sick  and  heart-sick  man  skulked 
in  convenient  localities,  where  his  wife  found  him  to 
eject  on  him  the  spleen  of  an  injured  woman. 

"  You  led  me  to  believe,"  she  said  to  her  husband, 
"  that  you  had  given  up  that  singing  woman." 

"  So  I  believed  ;  but  it  is  not  so  easy  to  throw — Oh 
dear  !  this  dreadful  sea! — Not  so  easy  to  throw  off  a 
tiger  when  it  fastens  on  you,"  he  replied  in  a  voice  as 
flabby  as  dough,  and  with  the  air  of  a  martyr. 


TANCREDI.  145 

"  What  authority,  what  power  does  she  hold  over 
you?  She  must  have  some  claim  on  you.  She  never 
would  follow  and  attempt  to  kill  a  man  unless  she  had 
suffered  some  wrong  at  his  hands." 

The  husband  was  silent. 

"Are  you  under  obligations  to  her?  Do  you  owe 
her  money  ?  Does  she  have  any  claim  against  you?" 

"None  whatever." 

"Why  then  does  she  hunt  you  like  a  wild  beast? 
Do  you  merit  her  anger — the  anger  that  would  kill  ? 
Why  don't  you  answer  me  ?  I  must,  I  will  know  all 
or  the  next  ship  takes  me  back  to  my  father's  pro- 
tection." 

"  My  dear  wife,  I  am  too  sick  to  talk — to  tell  you 
all.  Trust  me  till  I  am  better.  Your  feelings  are  too 
much  for  so  trifling  a  cause." 

"Is  it  a  trifling  affair  when  I  see  my  husband 
assaulted  by  a  fierce  woman — a  woman  he  brought  to 
America  ?  And  is  it  a  trifling  affair  when  your  wife 
sees  in  it  cause  sufficient  to  renounce  you  forever 
unless  it  is  satisfactorily  explained  away  ?" 

"  Why,  she  is  only  a  singer !  She  has  no  claim  on 
me — at  least  no  claim  that  would  weigh  in  my 
country.  She  demands  no  money,  nor  do  I  owe  her 
any.  Her  ambition  is  disappointed,  but  that  is  her 
fanlt,  not  mine;  she  cancelled  her  engagement  as 
prima  donna  against  my  protest,  and  now  she  seeks  to 


146  TANCREDI. 

recover  her  place,  and,  I  suppose,  struck  me  for  refus- 
ing to  aid  her.  I  never  promised  to  marry  her,  and 
she  never  expected  I  would,  for  I  am  noble,  while  sne 
is  the  artist  and  of  obscure  birth.  Marriage  with  her 
would  have  been  impossible,  even  if  I  had  never  met 
with  you.  I  think  she  is  crazy.  You  will  likely  never 
hear  of  her  again." 

"You  told  me  that  she  had  gone  to  Italy.  " 

"  So  I  then  believed.  Her  appearance  and  actions 
yesterday  were  as  unexpected  to  me  as  to  you." 

"  My  impression  is  that  you  once  loved  this 
woman,  if  you  do  not  now." 

"  How  much  better  and  stronger  I  love  you  wit- 
ness my  giving  her  up  for  you,"  exclaimed  Tancredi, 
in  that  low,  musical  voice  so  peculiar  to  him,  and  so 
effectual  when  pleading  his  cause.  He  kissed  his 
wife's  hand  as  tenderly  as  the  unsettled  state  of  his 
digestive  organs  would  permit. 

She  was  not  thoroughly  convinced  of  the  honesty 
of  his  statement,  but  she  restrained  her  misgivings  for 
the  time  being,  and  a  tolerable  reconciliation  followed 
between  herself  and  husband. 

She  had  ever  been  accustomed  to  a  life  of  ease,  lei- 
sure and  frivolity,  and  yet  neither  her  temperament  or 
her  position  in  society  warranted  a  life  of  indolence. 
A  haughty  and  independent  self-reliant  person,  such 
as  she  was,  cannot  be,  and  never  is,  lazy,  Her  natural 


TANCREDI.  147 

pride — and  she  was  very  proud — dreaded  scandal  and 
misery ;  she  therefore  naturally  inclined  toward 
objects  and  pursuits  that  were  bright  and  joyous,  and 
in  harmony  with  her  fashionable  life.  She  now 
turned  away  from  the  hateful  scene  witnessed  the  day 
before,  and  looked  to  the  bright  east  where  the  sun 
was  to  rise  on  her  long  wished  for  glory.  Her  long 
cherished  wish  to  marry  into  a  noble  and  illustrious 
family  was  now  gratified,  and  she  was  about  to  enter 
the  charmed  circle  of  European  society,  and  realize  its 
famed  pomp  and  grandeur. 

Her  husband  was  distinguished  by  birth,  wealth 
and  personal  attractions ;  his  conduct,  so  far  as  she 
knew,  hnd  ever  been  characterized  by  gentleness  and 
honor ;  his  behavior  towards  her  had  been  respectful 
arid  loving,  without  that  gush — that  vapid  billing  and 
cooing  too  common  among  her  married  acquaintances, 
a  practice  she  utterly  despised.  It  was  evident  he 
loved  her  and  was  proud  of  her  beauty. 

The  pacific  side  of  the  question  preponderated,  and 
she  gradually  yielded  to  the  fascinations  of  ambition. 
The  newly-married  pair  landed  on  the  shores  of  the 
Old  World  with  smiles  on  their  lips  and  peace  in  their 
hearts. 

The  first  move  made  by  the  cautious  Italian  on 
disembarking,  was  to  institute  such  precautionary 


148  TANCKEDI. 

measures  as  would  prevent  Rosetta  Godardo  from  fol- 
lowing him  to  Europe. 

He  now  looked  forward  to  a  delightful  honeymoon 
among  the  gay  capitals  of  the  continent,  where  he  num- 
bered so  many  friends.  His  attractive  wife  would 
certainly  create  a  sensation  in  society,  and  meet  with 
deserved  ovations,  but  the  carnival  must  not  be  endan- 
gered by  a  jealous  mistress  with  a  knife  and  vengeance 
in  her  bosom.  To  keep  her  out  of  the  way  he  wrote 
full  instructions  to  his  trusty  servant,  Berta,  the  com- 
panion and  custodian  of  Rosetta.  Berta  was  directed 
to  retain  the  cottage,  induce  the  Signorina  to  stay 
there,  and  draw  on  his  banker  for  funds  necessary  to 
maintain  them  in  comfort. 

That  tragic  affair  off  his  mind,  the  homesick  man 
turned  to  Italy,  from  whence  he  had  been  exiled  for 
so  many  months.  He  started  with  his  wife  for 
Naples. 


1ANCREDL  149 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"Like  ships  that  sailed  for  balmy  isles, 

But  never  came  to  shore ; 
A  ship  that  sailed  o'er  sunny  seas, 
Was  never  heard  of  more." 

WHEN  Rosetta  Godardo  was  taken  from  the  parlor 
of  the  hotel  at  the  time  she  attempted  to  assassinate 
Tancredi,  he  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  dispatch  in- 
structions to  Berta.  By  the  time  he  was  on  board  the 
vessel,  that  faithful  guardian  had  taken  her  mistress  in 
charge,  and  was  on  her  way  back  to  the  cottage. 

The  reaction  following  her  violence  brought  on 
alarming  prostration,  and  she  was  as  passive  as  a  child. 
Her  system,  not  yet  fully  recovered  from  the  recent 
illness,  now  gave  way,  and  she  suffered  a  dangerous 
relapse.  The  fever  fires  were  relighted,  and  the  mind 
once  more  wandered  in  the  mazes  of  delirium.  The 
poor  creature  lay  all  powerless  to  follow  her  lover,  too 
delirious  to  even  bestow  on  him  a  single  malediction. 

Berta  was  not  the  malevolent,  cold-blooded  crone 
that  her  office  would  seem  to  indicate.  Prudish  peo- 
ple will,  doubtless,  be  swift  to  condemn  her,  and  with 
a  degree  of  justice,  but  prudish  people  should  know 
exactly  how  much,  and  on  what  grounds  to  condemn 


150  TANCREDI. 

her,  lest  they  lose  their  reward — the  reward  of  having 
done  a  worthy  act  from  a  worthy  motive.  A  vicious 
right  is  no  more  impossible  with  people  of  strong 
prejudices,  than  is  a  virtuous  wrong.  That  Berta  may 
have  justice  awarded  her — justice,  neither  more  nor 
less,  it  is  necessary  to  be  more  explicit,  and  establish 
her  compound  relation  to  Godardo  and  Tancredi. 

She  was  about  fifty  years  of  age,  had  been  all  her 
life  a  servant  of  the  Tancredi  family,  and  the  favorite 
maid  of  the  late  Signora,  Michele's  mother.  She  had 
been  so  long  and  so  intimately  attached  to  the  family 
that  she  looked  on  it  as  her  own.  Its  good  was  hers, 
and  the  commands  of  the  master  her  higher  law. 

By  the  master's  orders  she  had  entered  the  service 
of  Rosetta,  and,  as  a  high  duty  she  never  dreamed  of 
shirking,  she  remained  at  her  post  and  obeyed  all 
instructions.  She  had  been  in  the  Signorina's  service 
ever  since  the  intrigue  began,  now  over  four  years. 
During  that  time  she  had  witnessed  her  master's 
attachment  for  Rosetta,  and  she  refused  to  believe  else 
than  that  he  still  loved  her  as  ever,  although  he  was 
married  to  another.  She  knew  that  in  Italy  the 
marriage  de  convenance  was  common  among  the  male 
members  of  the  nobility,  and  she  supposed  that  her 
master  had  taken  the  right  accorded  him  by  usage. 

She  had  learned  to  love  Rosetta  for  her  own  self, 
but  there  was  nothing  in  that  love  incompatible  with 


TANCREDI.  151 

fealty  to  her  master.  Indeed,  lie  had  always  encour- 
aged such  affection  by  rewarding  her  for  her  zealous 
and  respectful  attentions.  Why  should  she  not  love 
and  continue  to  love  Rosetta?  Had  not  Tancredi, 
even  in  his  late  trouble,  manifested  the  most  tender 
solicitude  for  Rosetta's  welfare  ? 

The  relationship  between  the  two  women  was  really 
more  like  that  of  easy  and  familiar  companionship 
than  that  of  mistress  and  maid.  Berta  was  old  enough 
to  be  Rosetta's  mother,  and,  indeed,  manifested  much 
of  the  concern  for  her  that  a  mother  would  for  her 
daughter.  When  the  child  was  wayward,  she  scolded 
it ;  when  it  was  grieved,  she  consoled  it ;  and  when  it 
was  ill,  she  nursed  it.  Rosetta,  on  her  part,  with  her 
warm  confiding  nature,  clung  to  her  one  female  com- 
panion with  childlike  trust  and  devotion. 

Berta's  conception  of  her  duties  in  the  premises 
was  thus  predicated  on  a  complex  basis — a  basis  too 
hard  for  thin-skinned  morals  to  rest  on  with  comfort. 
Her  appreciation  of  duty,  and  her  estimation  of 
morals,  was  no  better  or  worse  than  the  cause  and 
people  she  served. 

She  held  first  and  foremost  her  fealty  to  her 
master,  who,  she  believed,  could  not  be  guilty  of  a 
dishonorable  action.  Even  if  he  had  deserted  Rosetta, 
still  he  had  rendered  her  quid  pro  quo.  But  he  had 
not  deserted  her;  his  attentions  were  but  temporarily 


152  TANCREDI. 

deflected  from  her  and  bestowed,  as  it  were,  on  his 
own  family  ;  and  she  felt  confident  that  sooner  or  later 
he  would  wander  back  to  the  only  woman  he  had  ever 
loved.  At  all  events,  he  had  not  discarded  her,  as 
proven  by  his  appropriation  of  funds  to  keep  her  in 
comfort.  Her  duty  was  plain  ;  she  must  guard  and 
console  her  charge  until  further  orders. 

Berta  had  been  too  long  schooled  amid  the  con- 
venient profligacies  of  European  society  to  feel  any 
compunctions  at  her  position  as  the  agent  of  a  meretri- 
cious alliance.  The  agent  took  her  charge  home  from 
the  hotel,  put  it  in  bed,  summoned  the  physician,  and 
took  her  place  as  nurse.  The  vital  spark,  which  but 
now  glimmered  low  in  its  socket,  almost  gone  out  in 
darkness  forever,  again  began  to  glow  with  the  pale 
tint  of  returning  convalescence,  and  the  mind  com- 
menced feebly  to  reason. 

"What  did  I,  then,  that  thou  should'st  scold  me 
so,  kind  Berta  ?" 

"  Thou  did'st  try  to  kill  the  master,  child." 

"  But  he  deserved  killing." 

c<  Say  not  so  !  Would  that  punish  him  ?  Would 
that  help  thee  ?  Would  killing  him  bring  him  back  to 
thee  ?" 

"  But  he  has  betrayed  me." 

"JSTay,  he  loves  thee  yet ;  I'll  be  bound  !" 

"Think'st  thou  so?" 


TANCREDI.  153 

"  Nay,  I  am  sure." 

"  How  shall  I  be  sure  3" 

"  Try  him,  trust  him,  wait  on  him." 

"  And  how  shall  I  try  him,  good  Berta  ?" 

"  Win  him  back  from  the  Bannemead  ;  he  loves 
her  not  as  he  loves  thee." 

"  But  I  am  ill  and  ugly  !  She  it  was  who  stole 
away  my  beauty  with  her  evil  eye.  lie  will  not  look 
on  me." 

"  Be  not  so  despondent.  Regain  thy  health,  my 
child,  and  thy  beauty  will  return,  and  so  will  he." 

"Do'st  really  think  so?  Or  talk'st  thoti  thus 
to  console  me?  Mock  me  not,  kind  Berta;  I  pray 
thee,  mock  me  not !" 

"  Kay,  I  mock  thee  not !  Wilt  thou  try  my 
experiment  ?" 

"  And  thy  experiment  is — ' 

"  To  win  Michele  back  to  thee." 

"That  I  will  try;  but  how  ?" 

"  And  thou  must  promise  to  take  no  heed  of  him 
till  he  first  notices  thee." 

"  Kay,  that  is  too  hard  ;  Berta,  ask  me  not  that." 

"  I  know  these  men  better  than  thou  know'st 
them — court  them,  they  fly  ;  disdain  them,  they  kneel 
at  thy  feet." 

"But  will  he  ever  come ;  dost  thou  know  that  he 
will  return  to  me  ?" 


154  TANCREDI. 

"As  surely  as  the  summer  follows  winter;  as  sure 
as  the  swallows  homeward  fly.  If  thou  heed'st  me  I 
promise  his  return  to  thee." 

"  Then  I  promise  to  get  well  ;  and  to  remain  quiet ; 
but,  oh,  my  Berta,  that  is  hard,  hard,  hard  1"  sobbed 
the  weak  woman,  as  though  even  the  promise  of  in- 
action was  an  effort  that  summoned  all  the  fortitude  of 
her  disconsolate  soul. 


TANCREDI.  155 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"  She  walks  in  beauty  like  the  night 

Of  cloudless  climes  and  starry  skies, 
And  all  that's  best  of  dark  and  bright 
Meet  in  the  aspect  of  her  eyes." 

THERE  are  people  yet  living  in  ISTew  York  who 
will  recollect  very  well  the  yellow  cottage  which  stood 
on  a  slight  elevation  a  little  back  from  the  old  Harlem 
Road,  in  what  was  then  called  Yorkville,  a  suburb  of 
the  city.  The  building  and  grounds  were  for  many 
years  owned  and  occupied  by  an  excentric  Englishman 
who  was  a  mate,  or,  what  was  his  chief  duty,  a  pilot, 
on  one  of  the  packets  that  plied  between  New  York 
and  Liverpool.  His  name  was  William  Orange  ;  his 
neighbors  call  him  William,  Prince  of  Orange,  and  his 
yellow  cottage  the  Orange  Box.  He  was  laid  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea  long  ago,  the  roadway  has  been 
widened,  graded  and  paved  into  the  sweeping  avenue, 
and  the  ochery  dwelling  has  given  place  to  the  stately 
brown -stone  front. 

Rosetta  occupied  this  cottage.  Shade  trees  and 
trellised  vines  in  front  made  a  pleasant  retreat  and 


15G  TANCREDI. 

half  concealed  the  building  from  view.  A  commodi- 
ous garden  was  situated  in  the  rear  of  the  house. 

Rosetta's  nearest  neighbor  was  a  widow  named 
Taplan,  who,  with  her  son,  lived  in  the  adjoining  two 
story  brick.  The  son,  John  Taplan,  was  a  brawny 
young  man  of  two  and  twenty,  and  a  mate,  or  sea 
pilot,  by  occupation.  He  had  been  a  favorite  of  Wil- 
liam Orange,  who  had  interested  the  boy  in  the  art  of 
navigation,  and  taught  him  so  v/ell  that  he  was  now 
mate  on  one  of  the  packets  with  which  his  tutor  had 
been  so  long  connected.  He  was  frugal,  and  his  earn- 
ings not  only  kept  himself  and  mother  in  comfort, 
but  overran  their  wants  and  were  satisfactorily  filling 
the  provident  stocking — the  flattering  neuclus  of  pros- 
pective wealth.  They  owned  the  brick  dwelling  and 
enclosed  grounds,  which  was  prima  facia  evidence  of 
well-doing  people. 

Many  neighborly  civilities  had  been  exchanged 
between  the  inmates  of  the  two  dwellings.  During 
the  tedious  illness  of  Kosetta,  Mrs.  Taplan  had  been 
ever  willing  and  ready  to  render  any  help  in  her 
power.  Of  course  she  knew  nothing  of  Rosetta's 
antecedents,  nor  was  she  curious  to  know.  Her  neigh- 
bor, since  her  advent  into  the  neighborhood,  had 
behaved  with  decorum,  and  that  was  all  that  Mrs. 
Taplan  cared  to  know. 

The  topography  about  the  two  dwellings  was  such 


TANCKEDI.  157 

that  a  full  view  could  be  had  of  the  garden  in  the  rear 
of  the  cottage  by  any  one  looking  out  of  the  back 
second  story  window  of  the  brick.  When  Eosetta 
grew  able  to  walk  out  she  passed  much  of  her  time  in 
lounging  among  the  cozy  shadows  of  the  garden.  It 
was  while  thus  occupied  that  John  Taplan  first  saw 
her  from  his  bedroom  window,  while  home  on  his  brief 
monthly  visit.  He  was  struck  with  her  grace  and 
beauty  ;  he  thought  that  never  before  had  he  seen  so 
neat  a  figure,  and  he  stood  gazing  at  her  until  the 
stars  came  out  and  she  went  in. 

The  next  morning  he  learned  from  his  mother  all 
she  could  tell  him  of  the  beautiful  neighbor,  when  he 
went  whistling  away  and  steered  his  ship  across  and 
back  across  the  sea,  thinking  of  the  pretty  woman  of 
the  garden,  and  strangely  blending  her  with  the  Polar 
star.  When  next  he  came  home  he  found  his  mother 
prostrate  with  a  dangerous  illness,  which  compelled 
him  to  give  up  his  ocean  trip. 

When  Kosetta  learned  of  her  neighbor's  illness  she 
gratefully  remembered  the  kindnesses — the  savory 
stews,  spices,  jellies  and  kindred  dainties  of  invalid 
store,  which  the  kind  American  housewife  had  pre- 
pared and  brought  to  her  bedside,  when  she  herself 
was  ill,  and  needed  a  friend.  And  now,  when  oppor- 
tunity presented,  she  did  not  hesitate  to  repay  in  kind. 
Besides  her  sense  of  gratitude  it  was  a  real  treat  to  sit 


158  TANCREDI. 

with  some  human  being  outside  her  own  household. 

She  visited  the  sick  Mrs.  Taplan  every  day,  often 
twice  a  day;  and  sat  for  hours  fanning  the  bedridden 
neighbor,  or  soothing  her  with  her  sparkling  prattle. 

Bosetta  Godardo  was  not  a  strong-minded  woman ; 
her  thoughts  were  not  usually  deep  thoughts,  nor 
her  speech  eloquent.  It  took  passion  to  rouse  strong- 
thinking,  and  attune  her  speech  to  the  key  of  elo- 
quence. There  was  nothing  stirring  in  a  sick  cham- 
ber, nothing  in  an  invalid  to  incite  eloquence,  but  she 
could  and  did  cheer  and  amuse  Mrs.  Taplan  with  her 
kind  prattle  and  childlike  ways.  The  face  of  the  suf- 
ferer would  light  np  with  gladness  when  the  lively 
little  Italian  came  to  her  bedside. 

One  morning,  when  Kosetta  made  her  accustomed 
visit,  she  found  a  strange  man  seated  holding  the  sick 
woman  by  the  hand.  It  was  too  late  to  retreat,  and 
she  was  introduced  to  John  Taplan. 

The  son's  leave  of  absence  extended  through  many 
weeks  of  vigil  at  his  dying  mother's  side.  Rosetta 
was  shy  for  a  time,  but  she  gradually  became  accus- 
tomed to  the  presence  of  the  brawny  sailor,  who 
seemed  to  have  about  him  the  depth  and  the  perfume 
of  the  sea.  She  made  her  usual  visits  to  Mrs.  Taplan 
with  her  wonted  punctuality.  Thus  it  came  that,  in 
their  common  solicitude  for  the  sufferer,  the  Italian 
maid  and  the  ocean  pilot  were  daily  thrown  into  each 


TANCREDI.  159 

other's  company.  A  quiet  but  pleasant  acquaintance 
sprung  up  between  them.  "With  John  Taplan,  senti- 
ment began  at  gratitude,  and,  with  a  rapid  crescendo, 
ran  the  gamut  through  respect,  admiration,  love,  ten- 
derness, devotion,  up  to  the  crowning  key  of  adora- 
tion for  the  dark-eyed  beauty. 

Taplan  possessed  one  prominent  trait  in  his  charac- 
ter budget  that  made  him  a  remarkable  person,  that 
was  his  earnestness.  It  is  literally  true  to  say  that 
there  was  nothing  trivial  in  his  sight.  Everything  at 
all  worthy  of  consideration  was  of  serious  import  to 
him.  Everybody  and  all  things  that  came  within  his 
notice  was  estimated  with  seriousness.  Straws  pointed 
leeward,  and  had  significance  as  well  as  the  needle  that 
pointed  to  the  pole.  Life  to  him  was  never  a  travesty, 
but  an  awful  reality — the  vitam  impendere  vero.  He 
possessed  about  as  much  appreciation  of  wit  and 
humor  as  a  Hottentot  of  Beethoven's  symphonies,  or 
the  color  blind  of  rainbow  tints.  He  was  good- 
hearted,  patient,  cool,  ready  to  help,  and  fond  of  quiet 
society,  but  his  conception  of  conviviality  was  rudi- 
mentary. He  went  through  life  with  few  smiles, 
looking  at  men  and  objects  with  earnest  eyes  in  a 
sober  face. 

With  woman,  he  himself  confessed  he  was  a  fail- 
ure. He  was  too  morose  for  female  friendship,  too 
sedate  for  female  gayeties,  too  cold  for  woman's  flip 


160  TANCREDI. 

pant  love.  Even  as  a  boy,  lie  could  not  got 
with  the  girls.  He  never  could  enter  into  the  mud 
pie  industry  with  that  spurious  faith  which  is  some- 
times more  gratifying  than  the  genuine  article. 
"  Make  believe  "  was  labor  lost,  and  he  withdrew  from 
childish  sports  in  disgust.  The  screams  of  the  girls 
irritated  him,  and  their  hoydenish  ways  drove  him 
furious.  They  called  him  "  crank,"  "  Grandpap,"  or 
the  "  Old  Man,"  and  treated  him  like  a  Dutch  uncle, 
or  as  they  fancied  that  mythical  kinsman  deserved  to 
be  treated. 

When  he  grew  up  it  was  worse.  He,  who  could 
handle  a  ship,  could  not  manage  a  woman.  On  the 
darkest  night,  and  amid  the  raging  of  the  storm  his 
boat  would  obey  her  helm,  but  when  he  attempted  to 
direct  a  woman,  she  sheered  away,  perverse  and 
adverse  to  all  approved  principles  of  navigation. 
John  would  tackle  a  ship  when  the  waves  ran  moun- 
tain high,  and  he  would  bring  her  into  port,  out  he 
would  not  tackle  a  female  in  the  deadest  calm  that 
ever  lulled  the  upholstery  6f  a  drawing-room — no,  not 
to  be  made  master  of  the  craft. 

His  mother,  of  course,  had  understood  him  better ; 
all  bashful  boy's  mothers  do ;  she  trimmed  her  sails  to 
keep  him  company.  He  liked  his  mother  the  better 
for  that,  and,  up  to  the  time  when  he  met  Kosetta,  he 


TANCREDI.  161 

liked  his  mother  better  than  any  woman  he  had  ever 
met. 

This  little  black-eyed  woman — he  soliloquized 
— this  strange  woman,  who  spoke  his  language  so 
quaintly,  and  yet  to  musically,  seemed  wondrously  like 
his  mother  in  behavior  and  disposition. 

Don't  you  see  how  he  was  already  prejudiced  in 
her  favor  ?  she  seemed  to  sail  on  the  same  tack  with 
him,  or  lay  alongside  as  though  they  had  been  life's 
voyagers  together.  There  was  no  mockery  about  her, 
no  sneering  in  her  manner,  none  of  the  malapert  in 
her  behavior.  Even  her  beautiful  face  was  sober  and 
earnest. 

And  to  the  lonely  girl,  suffering  with  a  heartache 
not  assuaged,  this  strong,  sedate  man,  seemed  like  a  prop, 
a  tower,  a  secure  refuge,  which  she  had  dreamed  of,  and 
longed  for,  but  knew  not  that  such  sanctuary  could 
be  until  he  came  with  his  force  and  will.  His  very 
physical  proportions — the  broad  shoulders,  deep  chest, 
and  square  face,  lit  up  with  earnest  gray  eyes,  im- 
pressed her  with  a  sense  of  power  and  safety ;  while 
his  direct  manner,  and  unaffected,  almost  blunt,  speech, 
revealed  to  her  the  intensity  and  earnestness  of  his 
character.  She  began,  unconsciously  and  involun- 
tarily, to  lean  over  on  his  tack,  and  to  sail  along  in  his 
company. 

Of  course  it  was  not  the  beginning  of  a  new  love 


1G3  TANCREDI. 

with  her.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  it  was  not.  Even 
if  she  had  reached  no  higher  than  respect  for  the 
sailor,  and  remained  there,  it  would  have  been  better 
than  a  ruby  mine  for  both. 

No ;  it  was  not  the  beginning  of  a  new  love  attach- 
ment on  her  part.  Such  women  as  Rosetta  Godardo 
— there  are  such — love  but  once,  and  that  with  their 
lives.  She  had  loved  that  love.  There  was  no  new 
germ  for  a  new  growth.  Such  women  are  like  plants 
that  give  out  but  a  single  fragrance,  and  die  with  the 
perfume. 

Kosetta's  love  was  ground  into  a  broken  urn ;  no 
contiguous  vase  could  imbibe  the  subtle  fragrance. 


TANCREDI.  163 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

"  Her  precious  pearl  in  sorrow's  cup, 

Unmelted  at  the  bottom  lay, 
To  shine  again  when  all  drunk  up, 
The  bitterness  should  pass  away." 

"  DON'T  you  think  my  mother  is  much  better,  to- 
day ?"  asked  John  Taplan  of  Rosetta,  one  evening  in 
the  parlor,  as  she  came  from  the  sick  chamber. 

"  Alas,  no !  she  no  better !"  she  quietly  answered. 

"But,  the  color  has  come  back  to  her  face;  isn't 
that  better?" 

"  It  the  burning  that ;  it  the  fever." 

"  Tell  me,  did  you  ever  see  any  one  die  ?"  he 
inquired,  after  a  brief  silence. 

"  Yes  ;  my  mother  I  saw  ;  my  little  sister,  too.  I 
saw  both  die.  My  father  and  brother,  they  go  sink  in 
the  bay.  I  never  saw.  them — no  one  ever  saw  them* 
come  to  shore.  The  boat  it  come  back." 

"  You  mean  they  were  drowned  ?" 

"My  father  and  brother — yes,  they  drowned.  No 
one  see  them.  My  mother  and  sister  not ;  they  die — 
the  fever  made  them  to  die.  I  see  them  when  they 
die." 


164  TANCREDI. 

"  Plave  you  no  brother  or  sister  left  ?" 

"  None,  Sir,  none  ;  no  one  but  me  1" 

"You  are  alone;  as  lonely  as — as  I  am  lonely!" 
said  he,  after  another  interval  of  silence. 

"More  lone;  much,  more  lone  than  you.  Tou 
your  home  have,  your  mother,  your  ship,  your  friends, 
your  country  have.  But  me !  Alas,  I  nothing  have !" 

As  she  spoke  her  arms  fell  listless  at  her  side,  and 
her  head  sunk  on  her  breast.  The  sailor  made  a  step 
forward  as  if  to  catch  her  in  his  arms,  but  bashfulness 
restrained  him,  and  he  tore  open  his  collar,  which  felt 
like  an  iron  girdle  around  his  throat. 

They  stood  thus  for  a  few  moments  with  the 
silence  only  broken  by  the  hard  breathing  of  the 
sailor. 

"  Your  name  is  Kosaetta  ?"  at  length  he  asked. 

"  Nay,  not  so  much  ;  only  Eosetta,"  she  replied, 
looking  up  to  him  and  smiling. 

"May  I  call  you  Ilosa?  That  name  is  easier  for 
me  ;  besides  I  like  it  better." 

"Call  me  Kosa?  Yes,  if  it  likes  you,"  she  said, 
with  a  look  of  wonder  and  pleasure. 

"Well,  then,  Rosa,  will  you  let  me  be  your 
friend?" 

"You  are  good!  Same  like  your  mother!  You 
my  friend  ?  How  glad !  How  it  sounds !  Your 
friend  !  And  will  you  have  it  so  ?" 


TANCREDL  165 

"  Do  you  ask  if  I  mean  it  ?" 

"Yes,  the  same  it  is." 

"I  more  than  mean  it." 

"  It  gladdens  me  that  you  will  have  it  so  !  And 
you  shall  be  my  good  friend,  as  is  thy  mother,  and  I 
will  be  your  good  friend,"  she  cried,  and  joyously 
reached  out  her  hand  to  him. 

Ah,  what  an  actress  she  was !  but  here  her  acting 
was  true  and  real,  for  it  was  prompted  by  her  heart. 

The  two  new  friends  met  daily  beside  the  death 
couch,  until  the  mother  closed  her  eyes  to  mundane 
light.  When  John  saw  her  lying  before  him,  cold 
and  silent,  he  gave  one  great  sob,  as  if  told  for  the 
first  time  what  he  knew  before,  that  man  loses  his  first 
and  best  friend  when  his  mother  dies. 

He  was  alone  in  the  world,  without  a  single  blood 
relative  near  or  distant.  One  bright  inspiration  shone 
through  the  gloom,  it  was  the  sympathy  of  the  one 
single  being  who  came  with  words  of  condolence  at 
his  bereavement.  She  came  over  in  the  soft  twilight 
and  sat  in  the  pensive  gloom  of  the  house  of  woe,  talk- 
ing like  a  child  at  the  stricken  man.  She  followed 
the  body  of  her  late  friend  to  its  final  abode,  and  that 
was  the  last  John  saw  of  her  for  days. 

But  his  ship  was  in  port,  it  was  almost  ready  for 
the  return  voyage,  and  John  reported  for  duty. 

It  was  the  evening  before  he  was  to  sail.    He  had 


166  TANCREDI. 

been  ruminating  and  meditating  all  day,  trying  to 
make  out  the  answer  to  the  half -formed  and  obscure 
enigma  that  confused  and  bothered  his  mind.  lie 
knew  not  himself  why  it  was  or  what  it  was,  but 
there  it  was — an  ill-defined  disquiet  he  never  felt 
before.  John  Taplan  was  perplexed,  but  what  at  he 
did  not  know.  His  own  expression  was  that  he  didn't 
know  where  to  go,  nor  what  to  do  after  he  got  there. 
This  much  he  did  know,  that  the  enigma  related  in 
some  vagne  way  to  the  beautiful  neighbor,  but  why, 
he  could  not  tell.  He  knew  that  without  her  there 
would  be  no  vague  enigma  to  puzzle  his  brains. 
Without  her  he  would  summarily  dispose  of  his  house 
and  effects  and  turn  his  whole  attention  to  the  glorious 
sea.  But  with  her  in  the  case  he  hesitated  about  mak- 
ing a  radical  change,  and  he  compromised  by  bidding 
the  domestic  in  his  employ  keep  the  house  in  order 
until  his  return. 

That  much  of  the  enigma  was  cleared  up ;  but  the 
most  perplexing  part  remained — Rosetta,  what  of 
her? 

He  had  not  seen  her  since  his  mother's  funeral, 
which  already  seemed  an  age  ago.  He  must  see  her 
before  he  went  away — he  must  see  her  that  evening. 
He  entered  her  gate,  her  door ;  he  found  himself,  in 
surprise  to  himself,  in  Rosetta's  presence. 


TANCREDI.    *  167 

She  took  no  trouble  to  conceal  her  pleasure  at  his 
visit,  and  extended  her  hand  in  welcome. 

"  I  start  away  to-morrow  and  came  to  thank  you 
for  your  kindness  to  my  poor  mother,  and  to  say 
good-by." 

"  So  ?  But  you  will  corne  back,  and  we  will  be 
the  neighbors  ?" 

"  That  is  for  you  to  say,  Rosa." 

"  For  me  to  say  ?  Then  I  say  come  back  and  be 
my  neighbor,"  she  replied  in  a  hearty,  unaffected  man- 
ner. 

"No;  I  don't  mean  that;  or  I  mean  that  and 
something  more — a  great  deal  more.  Will  yon  be 
more  than  a  neighbor  to  me,  Rosa  ?" 

"That  more  is  the  friend?  Is  it  that?"  she 
inquired,  looking  down  and  tapping  the  floor  with  her 
foot. 

"  Will  you  be  my  wife  ?" 

"That  is  sudden!"  she  almost  whispered,  as  she 
glared  around  the  room  with  a  startled  look,  as  though 
dreading  a  lurking  foe. 

"  Will  you  be  my  wife  ?"  again  asked  Taplan, 
reaching  out  his  strong  hands  to  her. 

"  Signer  is  good  !  Sir,  you  are  kind,  very  kind  ! 
I  the  honor  deserve  not !" 

"  That  is  for  me  to  judge,  Rosa.  You  and  I  are 
alike  in  many  ways,  and  most  like  in  being  alone  in 


1G8  TANCREDI. 

the  world.  I  have  no  one  to  care  for  me,  if  it  is  not 
you ;  none  to  call  me  friend,  if  it  is  not  you  ;  I  have 
no  one  to  love,  if  it  is  not  you.  I  can  give  you  a 
home  and  my  love,  and  we  can  give  each  other  happi- 
ness. Think  of  all  that !" 

"  What  if  I  the  better  like  alone  to  be  ?  What  if 
it  best  pleases  me  to  be  by  no  one  loved  ?" 

"  Then  it  shall  best  please  me  also.  Is  this  your 
answer  ?" 

"  When  come  you  home  again  ?" 

"  In  about  forty  days." 

"  Then  I  will  answer  you.  Ask  me  not  now.  A 
good  voyage  to  you,  and  safe  return,  my  friend.  Till 
then,  good-by." 

The  next  day  the  young  mate  went  away  to  sea. 

Berta  wrote  one  of  her  fortnightly  letters  about 
this  time.  Here  is  a  translated  extract : 

"  I  wrote  you  of  our  neighbors,  the  American  fam- 
ily, and  of  the  death  of  the  mother,  who  left  a  son,  a 
young  sailor.  He  has  just  gone  to  sea,  the  first  trip 
since  his  mother's  death. 

"Do  you  believe  it?  he  is  in  love  with  our 
Rosetta !  He  proposed  to  her  last  evening.  And 
what  said  she  ?  I  hear  you  ask.  She  told  him  to  wait 
a  mouth  for  her  reply  !  To  wait  till  his  ship  comes 
back.  What  do  you  say  to  that  ?  All  this  she  has 


TANCKEDI.  1UU 

told  me  ;  what  she  will  do  I  know  not.  She  wants  ray 
advice  ;  what  shall  it  be  ?  She  loves  him  not  as  she 
once  loved  you." 

When  John  Taplan  left  Eosetta  Godardo  a  new 
era  seemed  to  burst  on  her  life.  The  two  conventional 
angels  that  are  appointed  to  hover  in  the  circumam- 
bient presence  of  mortals,  had  a  fierce  combat,  which 
ended  in  the  Demon  of  Evil  being  driven  howling 
away,  and  its  place  occupied  by  the  guardian  angel  of 
Good.  The  benignant  spirit  overshadowed  the  woman 
with  peace  and  content. 

As  she  sat  alone  in  the  gathering  shadows  of  night, 
after  bidding  her  lover  adieu,  the  drama  of  her  life, 
past  and  prospective,  passed  like  a  thrilling  panorama 
before  her.  She  fancied  she  sat  among  the  olives 
where  as  a  child  she  played ;  she  saw  her  father's 
cottage,  and  she  beheld  his  boat  on  the  bay  ;  she  again 
looked  on  her  mother  bending  over  the  spinning  wheel 
under  the  shade  of  the  chestnut  tree. 

Then  came  the  maiden  with  her  beauty,  her 
innocence  and  her  song,  when,  lo !  a  dark  shadow 
crept  over  her  form,  and  enveloped  her  in  its  foul 
gloom  !  It  is  the  blight  of  the  execrable,  the  false 
Tancredi !  Scalding  tears  filled  her  eyes  and  blotted 
out  the  hateful  vision. 

But,  behold  !     While  she  yet  weeps,  the  hideous 


170  TANCREDI. 

shadow  fade?,  and  the  form  of  Jolin  Taplan  stands 
among  the  sunlit  olives.  He  holds  out  his  hands  to 
her;  he  points  to  a  smiling  valley,  aureate  with  waving 
grain,  and  musical  with  birds  and  bees. 

The  guardian  angel  looked  on  approvingly  and 
smiled  applause. 

It  was  not  love  that  lured  her  toward  Taplan,  or 
she  could  not  have  seen  so  clearly  and  reasoned  so 
correctly  what  she  had  been  and  what  she  might  yet 
become.  Love  would  have  blinded  her.  It  was  pride, 
self-respect,  the  instinct  of  virtue,  that  inclined  her 
toward  him.  She  looked  to  him  as  to  the  knight, 
noble,  brave  and  strong,  under  whose  shield  she  might 
find  shelter,  and  in  whose  affection  she  might  find 
refuge  from  shame  and  sorrow.  She  looked  to  him  as 
an  ark  to  bear  her  over  the  waves  of  passion  and 
despair. 

The  guardian  angel  whispered  approval. 

His  was  the  first  honorable  love  ever  made  to  her ; 
his  was  the  only  offer  of  marriage  she  had  ever  heard. 

How  different  it  all  was  from  her  experience  with 
Tancredi !  How  striking  the  contrast  between  the 
two  men  !  The  nobleman  had  treated  her  as  he  would 
a  slave ;  the  sailor  paid  her  the  homage  due  a  queen. 
Under  the  sway  of  her  old  love  passion  ran  riot,  and 
judgment  sat  appalled  on  its  tottering  seat.  She  had 
indeed  ruled  on  a  gilded  throne,  but  the  hair-sus- 


TAKCREDI.  171 

pended  sword  had  fallen,  and  her  false  lover  had  walked 
over  her  prostrate  body  to  new  conquest.  The  stout 
sailor  had  reseated  her  on  the  throne,  and  had  re- 
moved the  menacing  sword.  She  was  no  longer 
scorned  and  rejected,  but  was  the  queen,  in  royal  robes, 
and  in  her  right  mind. 

Peace,  content  and  security  settled  down  on  the 
Italian  maid  like  a  benediction.  Her  sleep  was  no 
longer  disturbed  by  the  spectre  of  unrest ;  her  dreams 
were  of  her  childhood. 

Rosetta  resolved  that  she  would  become  the  wife 
of  John  Taplan.  As  was  characteristic  of  her,  the  re- 
solve was  not  weak  with  a  cold  hesitancy.  She  glo- 
ried in  the  prospect  before  her,  and,  as  the  tedious 
days  went  round,  she  longed  for  his  return,  impatient 
to  tell  him  how  glad  she  was  to  become  his  wife. 
She  felt  every  joy  that  a  pure  woman  feels  when 
about  to  enter  into  happy  wedlock  with  the  man  she 
loves.  Under  this  contented  frame  of  mind,  and  its 
stimulating  effect  on  her  system,  her  vigor  and  beauty 
returned  with  astonishing  rapidity.  With  these  hap- 
py changes  came  back  her  girlish  tastes  and  ambition. 
She  took  again  to  song,  hunted  up  her  neglected 
music,  and  the  cottage  rang  with  her  melodious  voice. 
She  especially  loved  to  sing  songs  of  the  sea. 

Berta  stared  with  wide  eyes  at  the  change  in  her 
young  ward. 


172  TANCREDI. 

"  What  has  come  over  thee,  my  pretty  one  ?  Thou 
art  as  gay  as  the  lark  !" 

"  Say'st  thou  so,  good  Berta  ?  And  why  may  I  uot 
be  gay  ?  One  cannot  always  be  sad  !" 

"  Heigh-ho  !  Thou  art  ever  thinking  of  the  young 
American  sailor  !  Ah  me !  thou  wilt  soon  desert  thy 
old  friend  Berta !" 

"IN ay,  thou  shalt  ever  remain  and  be  glad  with 
me." 

"No,  girl ;  when  thou  go'st  with,  the  sailor  I  shall 
return  to  my  master." 

"  Hush,  Berta !  Let  us  not  speak  of  evil  !  It 
makes  me  sad  again." 

"  Is  it  evil  to  say  I  shall  return  to  my  master  when 
thou  art  married  ?" 

"Alas,  yes,  dear  Berta,  so  it  sounds  to  me." 

"  But  it  is  natural  that  I  should  go  to  my  best 
friend  when  I  part  with  thee." 

"  He  may  spurn  thee,  as  he  did  me.  He  will  spurn 
thee  when  thon  art  in  his  way." 

"Dio  vi  benedica  f  Think' st  thou  so  evil  of 
him?" 

"  Caro  mio,  have  I  not  good  cause?" 

"Ask  me  not  to  decide  that.  He  loves  thee? 
Mark  iny  words,  he  will  return  to  thee  again.  All  the 
fiends  will  not  keep  him  from  thee." 


TANCREDI.  173 

"  May  the  arch  fiend  sieze  me  if  I  give  him  wel- 
come !" 

"  Puh  !  how  you  talk  !     We  shall  see  !" 
"  We  shall  see !"   echoed  Rosetta   mockingly,  and 
she  broke  off  the  dialogue  by  going  to  the  piano  and 
singing, 

"  Like  an  eagle  caged  I  pine, 
On  this  dull  unchanging  shore  ; 

Oh  !  give  me  the  flashing  brine, 
The  spray  and  the  tempest  roar." 

Berta  watched  her  with  the  expression  of  a  patient, 
waiting  demon  on  her  cunning  face. 

It  was  pleasant  to  contemplate  Rosetta  in  her  new 
role.  She  got  a  new  dress,  together  with  several 
articles  of  personal  adornment,  the  first  since  coining 
to  America.  She  placed  many  inexpensive  decorations 
in  and  about  the  cottage,  and  did  many  things  to  beau- 
tify herself  and  her  home,  adornments  which  none  but 
a  woman's  head  could  have  contrived  or  a  woman's 
hand  executed.  Her  acts  and  industry  were  not  all 
for  John  Taplan  ;  they  were  largely  for  the  woman 
redeemed  from  passion  and  disgrace. 

Well,  why  stop  to  moralize  ?  Why  not  proceed 
with  the  story  ? 

Ah,  friend,  is  it  not  going  too  fast  when  you, gallop 
rough  shod  over  the  hoping  heart  of  a  weak  and 
crushed  woman  ?  And  is  it  not  really  proceeding  with 


174  TANCREDI. 

the  story  when  you  linger  to  learn  her  anxious,  almost 
terrible,  resolve,  to  redeem  her  life  from  pollution  ? 
The  potentiality  of  a  fallen  woman's  will  is  a  brittle 
texture  when  strongest ;  why  may  we  not  tarry  long 
enough  to  strengthen  it  with  our  sympathy  ? 

And,  Madam,  you  who  are  most  clamorous  for  the 
rapid  turning  of  Ixion's  wheel,  may  it  not  be  that  you 
are  too  prone  to  pass  by  in  disdain  an  erring  sister, 
when,  perchance,  encouragement  from  you  would 
redeem  ?  Here  is  a  young  creature  possessed  of  every 
quality  that  gives  grace  and  charm  to  womanhood  ; 
she  has  been  tempted  as  only  a  beautiful  girl  can  be 
tempted,  and  is  even  yet  surrounded  by  the  most 
vicious  and  perilous  circumstances.  From  the  depths 
of  her  danger  and  degradation  she  reaches  out  toward 
the  light,  and  hails  with  joy  the  prospect  of  standing 
redeemed  in  that  noblest  of  all  stations — the  true  wife 
of  a  true  man.  For  God's  sake,  don't  trample  her 
back  into  the  mire !  Let  her  rise  again.  There  are 
hellish  temptations  awaiting  her ;  help  her  overcome 
them  all. 


TANCREDI.  175 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"  Oh,  how  this  tyrant,  doubt,  torments  my  breast  I" 

ON  the  morning  of  the  day  when  her  lover's  ship 
was  expected  to  reach  port  she  was  early  astir,  and  in 
a  carriage  hired  for  the  occasion  drove  down  to  the 
pier  to  meet  and  welcome  him  home. 

The  ship  was  not  in,  but  a  vessel  supposed  to  be 
the  packet  had  been  signaled  off  Sandy  Hook,  and  it 
would  be  noon  before  she  could  reach  her  pier.  The 
time  was  long,  but  Hosetta  waited. 

The  packet  was  at  her  mooring  at  last,  and  the 
crew  not  on  duty,  was  disembarking.  Among  the 
members  was  the  young  mate,  whom  she  hailed  as  lie 
drew  near.  John  was  astonished  and  confused  at 
being  accosted  by  a  beautiful  woman  in  the  presence 
of  his  ship-mates,  but  when  he  saw  who  it  was,  and 
learned  why  she  was  there,  he  came  as  near  smiling  as 
his  temperament  would  permit.  He  was  more  than 
pleased. 

His  companions,  curious  to  learn  who  was  this 
charming  female  who  so  familiarly  addressed  their 
comrade— the  woman-hater, — and  why  he  stood  BO  high 


176  TANCREDI. 

in  her  favor,  lingered  near,  waiting  for  him  to  rejoin 
them.  Their  presence  and  behavior  attracted  her 
attention. 

"These  are  yonr  friends?"  she  asked,  nodding 
toward  the  group  of  sailors.  "  You  shall  bring  them 
here  and  make  me  the  introduction." 

"This  is  my  neighbor,  and  my  mother's  friend," 
said  Taplan,  presenting  his  comrades  to  her. 

She  gave  her  hand  in  uneffected  greeting  to  every 
one,  and  by  her  modest  and  graceful  manner  made 
her  way  to  the  good  opinion  of  all.  One  of  the 
officers  lived  in  the  direction  of  Torkville,  and  she 
insisted  on  his  riding  with  them,  when  they  started 
off  together. 

In  the  evening  John  went  over  according  to 
appointment,  and  sat  and  talked  with  Eosetta,  or 
rather,  listened  to  her,  for  he  was  a  good  listener,  to 
whom  most  people  liked  to  talk.  Taplan  was  better 
informed  than  most  persons  in  his  vocation ;  his 
silence  was  not  because  of  ignorance.  He  sat 
enchanted  under  the  spell  of  the  musical  speech  and 
charming  ways  of  the  Italian  girl,  feeling  it  almost 
sacriligious  to  interrupt  the  harmony  with  his  big 
round  voice.  Besides  he  was  in  suspense. 

"I  came  for  the  answer,"  he  at  length  abruptly 
exclaimed,  after  the  evening  had  well  advanced. 


TANCREDI.  177 

"  The  answer  ?  Meeting  you  at  the  pier  was  the 
answer." 

"  And  the  answer  is — " 

"  I  your  wife  will  gladly  be,"  she  replied,  placing 
both  her  hands  in  his. 

The  young  sailor  folded  her  in  his  arms,  and  kissed 
her  most  daintily. 

How  did  he  acquire  the  art?  He  never  had  any 
training  ;  it  was  the  first  embrace  he  ever  bestowed  on 
a  woman,  his  mother  excepted,  and  yet  he  kissed  his 
affianced  with  the  grace  and  delicacy  of  a  Chester- 
field !  If  kissing  goes  by  favor,  it  conies  by  heredity. 

The  four  days  he  stayed  on  shore  were  gala  days 
to  John  Taplan,  and  their  memory  lived  long  as  a 
bright  oasis  in  his  life.  He  passed  his  time  until  late 
in  the  evening  by  her  side,  and  at  night  dreamed  of 
none  but  her.  He  was  quiet,  almost  solemn,  in  her 
presence ;  but  he  was  earnestly  happy.  Rosetta 
whiled  away  the  time  with  her  unaffected,  childlike 
manner,  and  made  him  wish  the  day  would  never  end. 

They  talked  most  of  the  future  ;  and  soared  away 
to  gossamer  castles  built  by  that  volatile  architect, 
Hope.  O  Youth  !  O  Beauty  I  Why  may  not  thy 
ethereal  days  roll  round  forever. 

The  wedding  day  was  fixed  to  come  off  in  the  glad 
spring  time — in  the  following  May,  which,  to  the 
8* 


178  TANCREDI. 

young  pilot,  was  a  remote  future,  but  still  the  millen- 
nium worth  the  waiting  for. 

"  Before  you  go  away,  I  must  tell  you  this  which 
most  troubles  me,  my  only  trouble,"  she  said  to  him 
on  the  evening  before  he  was  to  sail. 

"  What  can  trouble  yon,  Rosa  i" 

"  Oh,  my  friend,  it  is  the  hard,  hard  story  !  I  tell 
it  all  to  you  some  day.  It  is  the  wicked  story  ;  it 
pains  my  heart  when  I  think.  You  know  not  what 
you  have  made  for  me.  For  all  the  good  you  make 
for  me,  the  good  God  will  bless  yon  !  But  one  more 
good  you  must  make  me,  then  I  the  happy  woman 
will  be." 

"  Name  it,  Rosa,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand,  and 
encouraging  her  with  his  firm  grasp. 

"  The  person — the  one  who  here  me  bring,  makes 
this  home  for  me.  I  like  it  not;  I  will  not  have  it 
so.  I  can  no  longer  his  bounty  accept.  It  is  your 
wife  that  is  to  be  who  speaks  this  trouble." 

"  I  am  not  sure  I  understand  you, — some  friend 
provides  for  your  maintenance  in  this  cottage,  is  that 
your  meaning  ?" 
•  "  Yes." 

"  And  you  can  no  longer  accept  aid  from  him,  now 
that  you  are  my  promised  wife?  Do  you  mean 
that  ?" 


TANCREDI.  179 

"Yes,  yes;  it  is  that.  How  kind  you  under- 
stand." 

"  Then  you  are  right,  quite  right ;  my  future  wife 
must  look  to  me  entirely  for  support.  But,  tell  me, 
Rosa,  who  this  friend — this  person  is?  Tell  me  all 
about  it." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no !  my  good,  kind  friend,  ask  me 
not  that !  Some  other  time  !  oh,  please,  some  other 
time !  It  is  the  hard,  wicked  story,  that  makes  me 
wild,  that  makes  me  crazy  when  it  I  think.  Some 
other  time,  do,  please  me !  Before  we  married,  I  tell 
you  all.  Let  us  be  happy  to-night.  The  great  sor- 
row is  past ;  let  us  not  feel  wicked  any  more." 

While  pleading,  she  knelt  at  his  feet  and  clasped 
his  knees  in  the  agony  of  her  supplication. 

"  As  it  suits  you,"  Taplan  said  coldly,  as  he 
looked  down  in  her  upturned  face  and  saw  the  wild 
gleaming  of  her  dark  eyes. 

Neither  spoke  for  some  time.  The  sailor  wore  a 
troubled  look  on  his  face,  which  the  observant  woman 
saw  with  consternation.  She  clung  to  his  knees  as 
she  had  once  clung  to  Tancredi,  and  looked  up  into 
Taplan's  face  so  beseechingly,  so  piteously,  and  so 
alarmed. 

He  placed  his  great  hands  on  her  shoulders  as  if  to 
repulse,  and  said,  earnestly,  almost  fiercely,  "  Tell  me, 
Rosa,  is  it  a  crime  ?" 


180  TANCREDI. 

"  God  pity  me,  yes  ;  but  not  my  crime  !"  exclaimed 
the  dismayed  woman,  bowing  her  head  in  his  lap,  and 
sobbing  as  if  grief  were  breaking  her  heart. 

He  raised  her  up,  lifted  her  as  lovingly  as  the 
angel  of  mercy  lifts  up  the  fallen. 

"  Rosa,  that  is  all  I  wish  to  know,  all  I  have  the 
right  to  know.  You  are  innocent,  tell  me  the  rest  or 
not,  as  it  best  pleases  you." 

The  distressed  creature  nestled  close  to  his  bosom, 
and  laid  her  head  next  his  heart,  like  a  troubled  child 
clinging  to  its  dearest  friend.  She  felt  secure  there  ; 
evil  and  distress  could  not  reach  her  in  that  asylum. 
She  looked  up  in  his  face  and  smiled  through  her  tears. 

That  woman  was  pure  in  the  sight  of  her  lover ; 
she  stood  redeemed  in  the  eyes  of  a  merciful  power. 

Was  it  the  Magdalene  to  whom  the  resurrection 
first  appeared? 

Rosetta  Godardo  met  there  the  Resurrection  of  a 
New  Life. 

On  the  next  day  John  Tappan  hunted  up  the 
agent  of  the  cottage  and  to  him  prepaid  the  rent  for 
the  ensuing  quarter.  He  left  positive  orders  with 
Rosetta  to  accept  no  pecuniary  help  from  any  one  but 
himself.  On  that  day  she  saw  him  off  on  his  voyage. 

Two  more  translated  extracts  from  the  Italian  let- 
ters are  here  given.  The  first  is  Tancredi's  reply  to 
Berta's  letter  already  given. 


TANCREDI.  181 

"  It  is  impossible  for  her  to  love  him  or  any  one  as 
she  did  me.  She  loved  me  too  well,  better  a  thousand 
times  than  a  woman  should  love  any  man.  But,  poor 
girl,  she  couldn't  help  that;  it  is  her  nature!  Her  too 
ardent  love  for  me  was  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble ; 
but  for  that,  she  might  be  happy  this  day. 

"  I  am  glad  her  beauty  has  returned,  as  you  state ; 
but  still  I  trust  she  will  marry  the  sailor — I  think  you 
say  he  is  a  sailor. 

"  It  is  uncertain  when  we  shall  return  to  America. 
It  all  depends  on  Madam,  who  is  so  capricious  as  to  be 
no  two  days  alike. 

"  Has  Eosetta's  voice  come  back  with  her  beauty  ? 
Tell  her  that  I  would  like  to  hear  her  sing  one  of  the 
old  songs  we  used  to  sing  together.  Tell  her,  also, 
that  Signora  Lucia,  with  whom  she  quarrelled  at 
Madrid,  is  become  the  rage  of  Europe,  and  is  now  the 
queen  of  the  lyric  stage.  Lucia  and  Rosetta  were 
rivals,  but  our  Rosetta  would  have  distanced  her  were 
it  not  for  her  foolish  resolve  to  quit  the  stage. 

"If  she  asks  my  advice,  tell  her  I  say  to  marry  the 
American  sailor." 

Berta  wrote  in  reply : 

"  Our  Rosetta  has  accepted  the  sailor.  They  are  to 
be  married  next  May.  I  don't  think  she  loves  him, 


182  TANCREDI. 

and  yet  she  cares  a  great  deal  for  him.  She  acts  more 
like  a  woman  moved  by  gratitude  than  love.  The 
sailor  (he  is  a  sailor)  will  give  her  an  honest  name,  a 
home  and  protection  ;  for  all  of  which  she  feels 
grateful. 

"She  was  furious  when  she  heard  of  Lucia's 
success.  Til  triumph  over  her  yet!'  she  muttered, 
with  gleaming  eyes.  What  she  meant  I  know  not. 
When  I  had  finished  reading  to  her  your  letter,  she 
sighed,  and  went  to  the  mirror,  where  she  adjusted  a 
scarlet  ribbon  in  her  hair.  You  always  told  her  how 
well  scarlet  became  her. 

"  She  is  now  in  the  parlor  singing  *  The  Harp  in  the 
Air.'  Why  does  she  always  sing  that  song  when 
troubled  about  you  ?  She  sings  better  than  ever 
before.  The  sailor  is  gone  to  sea,  but  she  is  not 
impatient  at  his  absence  as  she  used  to  be  when  you 
were  away." 

John  Taplan  was  seated  in  the  officer's  cabin  of 
the  outward  bound  packet  talking  to  a  comrade. 

"  Taplan,  do  you  recollect  the  Italian  nobleman  and 
the  singing  woman  who  came  over  with  us  in  this 
ship  from  Europe  to  America  more  than  a  year  ago  ? 
The  woman,  don't  you  remember,  who  charmed  every 
body  on  board  with  her  singing?  Don't  you  recol- 
lect ?" 


TANCREDI.  183 

"No." 

"  Oh,  of  course  not !  Why  ask  such  a  question  of 
a  woman  hater?  You  never  go  into  the  grand  saloon, 
especially  if  a  lady  is  there." 

"  Why  do  you  ask  if  I  recollect  the  Italian  and  the 
singing  woman  ?" 

"  Oh,  do  you  know,  that  the  woman  you  introduced 
me  to,  looks  like  that  opera  singer." 

"What!  Kosa?  Impossible!  Why  do  you  think 
that  ?" 

"  Because,  as  I  said,  your  sweetheart  resembles  the 
Italian  lady,  because  your  friend  is  an  Italian,  and,  you 
eay,  sings  like  an  angel." 

"  You  astonish  me  !  And  yet  I  can  see  no  wrong, 
even  if  Rosa  should  turn  out  to  be  the  woman  you 
speak  of." 

"  Wrong  ?  Certainly  not !  But  everybody  seemed 
to  think  that  she  was  the  Italian's  wife.  Is  your 
sweetheart  a  widow  ?" 

"  Damnation  !  What  are  you  driving  at  ?  I  never 
asked  her  such  a  question  ;  I  never  thought  of  such  a 
question.  She  may  be  a  widow  for  all  I  know  or 
care,  and  still  I  maintain  there  is  nothing  wrong. 
Why,  in  the  name  of  the  furies,  do  you  talk  so  ?  She 
is  to  be  my  wife ;  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  mean  nothing  bad  ;  I  know  nothing  bad,  nor 
do  I  think  anything  wrong ;  only  it  is  a  matter  for 


184  TANCREDL 

remark  that  the  woman  who  crossed  in  this  packet 
should  bear  so  close  a  resemblance  to  your  wife,  that  is 
to  be.  That  is  all,  old  fellow.  That  is  all.  No 
offense,  I  hope." 

"  We'll  let  the  matter  drop." 

"  As  you  choose.  I  have  nothing  more  to  say  on 
the  subject ;  it's  none  of  my  business." 

"  No  ;  it's  none  of  your  business." 

Although  Taplan  controlled  his  tongue  he  did  not 
his  thoughts.  The  subject  was  continually  uppermost 
in  his  mind.  It  troubled  him  deeply,  as  does  all 
mystery  connected  with  one's  sweetheart.  And  yet, 
he  reasoned,  that,  when  the  mystery  came  to  be  cleared 
up,  as  it  would  be  some  day,  it  would  then  be  no 
longer  a  mystery,  but  probably  a  very  simple  and 
innocent  affair.  He  would  trust  Rosetta,  as  he  said  he 
would,  until  she  herself  voluntarily  explained  the 
mystery,  as  she  promised  she  would,  and  as  she  would 
in  due  time. 

He  recalled  her  words  on  the  subject,  and  analyzed 
them. 

"It  is  the  only  thing  that  troubles  me,"  she  had 
said.  She  meant  it  troubled  her,  as  it  should  the  pru- 
dent woman  and  affianced  wife,  to  accept  pecuniary 
aid  of  another.  That  was  highly  commendable  ;  but 
who  was  the  person  alluded  to?  Doubtless  some 


TANCREDI.  185 

relative  who  reluctantly  gave  her  that  support  pro- 
vided for  her  by  contract. 

Was  this  person,  could  he  be  the  Italian  nobleman 
of  whom  his  mate  had  spoken  ?  Or  was  she  his 
widow,  and  provided  for  in  his  will  ? 

"  It  is  the  hard,  wicked  story  that  makes  me  wild 
when  I  think  of  it,"  she  had  also  said.  Then  it  must 
be  a  story  intimately  connected  with  her  life — a  hard, 
wicked  story.  But  she  had  said  that  it  was  a  crtrne  ; 
but  not  her  crime.  That  is  to  say,  others  had  done 
the  wrong,  had  wronged  her,  and  were  perhaps  even 
now  wronging  her.  Certainly  no  reasonable  man  who 
pretended  to  love  a  woman  could  have  any  misgivings 
after  so  direct  and  emphatic  a  statement  as  Rosetta 
had  made  to  him.  He  would  think  no  more  of  the 
case  ;  such  thoughts  implied  doubt,  and  he  would  not 
wrong  Rosa  by  doubting  her  word.  He  would  wait 
for  her  story. 

But  it  is  to  be  feared  that  he  did  not  succeed  in 
dismissing  the  distracting  subject  from  his  mind. 


186  TANCREDI. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"Still  panting  o'er  a  crowd  to  reign, 
More  joy  it  gives  to  woman's  breast, 
To  make  ten  frigid  coxcombs  vain, 
Than  one  true,  manly  lover  blest." 

THE  Tancredi  made  a  very  brief  stay  in  Naples. 
The  fastidious  Madam  found  only  stupid  natives,  two- 
thirds  of  whom  were  lazy  or  ill-bred,  the  other  third 
guides  or  beggars.  She  saw  no  society  that  came  up 
to  her  standard  of  excellence.  Even  the  strangers 
came  and  went  like  wanderers,  seeking  only  pleasure 
or  health.  This  was  Naples  as  she  viewed  it,  and 
after  a  sail  on  the  bay,  and  a  ride  in  a  rough  diligence, 
she  shook  the  dust  from  her  feet  and  turned  back  to 
Rome. 

There  it  was  even  worse.  To  her  eyes  the  popu- 
lace was  made  up  of  mendicants,  banditti,  and  a 
sprinkling  of  artists,  antiquarians  and  church  dignita- 
ries. The  industries  of  the  city  were  divided  into 
begging,  seeking  curiosities,  rambling  among  ruins,  or 
holding  conclaves.  She  soon  tired  of  Rome,  and 
started  with  her  obliging  husband  to  Venice. 

That  place  suited  her  better,  mainly,  no  doubt, 


TANCRED1.  187 

because  she  was  committed  favorably  beforehand. 
She  had  pined  for  the  City  of  the  Sea,  and  now  that 
she  was  there  she  was  bound  to  affect  delight,  even 
though  she  did  not  feel  that  way.  She  was  entitled  to 
some  praise  for  her  consistency  in  this,  for  at  heart  she 
waa  disappointed.  To  her  Venice  was  a  city  washed 
by  the  sea,  and  yet  filthy  and  odorous  of  fish.  The 
gondolas  and  gondoliers,  at  least,  from  their  proximity 
to  water,  might  have  kept  themselves  clean ;  but  the 
former  were  not  only  rank  with  dirt  but  were  infested 
with  vermin  that  held  Venetian  carnivals  among  their 
napless  cushions,  and  the  boatmen  looked  like  coal- 
heavers  of  the  Thames.  One  of  the  gondoliers,  whom 
she  said  was  tipsy,  paddled  her  about  with  a  broken 
oar.  She  saw  no  gondolier  of  romance,  unless  dirt, 
rags  and  insolence  are  picturesque  and  romantic. 

Their  stay  in  Venice  was  protracted  to  a  fortnight, 
apparently  for  no  other  reason  than  that  Signer  Tan- 
credi  wanted  to  get  away  to  the  cool  air  of  the  Alps. 

Thus  far  Madam  Alice  was  disappointed.  She  had 
not  met  with  nobility,  had  not  tasted  the  sweets  of  dis- 
tinguished society,  and  she  began  to  suspect  that  her 
husband's  marriage  was  looked  upon  as  a  mesalliance 
by  his  kindred,  and  that  polite  Italy,  on  that  account, 
was  bent  on  excluding  his  wife  from  the  privilege  of 
her  husband's  class  and  station. 

He  protested   that  society  in  cities  was  out  of 


188  TAXCREDI. 

season  in  that  latitude,  and  that  fashionable  Italy  was 
taking  its  accustomed  airing  on  the  lakes  and  among 
the  passes  of  the  cool  mountains.  This  statement 
cnlj  partially  re-assured  her.  She  was  fast  becoming  a 
suspicious,  exacting  and  capricious  wife,  bent  on  lead- 
ing her  husband  a  Gilpin  gallop  over  the  domestic 
course. 

He  submitted  to  her  whims  and  tyrannies  with  a 
tameness  surprising  in  so  spirited  a  man.  He  yielded 
to  her  every  wish,  regardless  of  how  unreasonable  or 
unjust  it  might  be,  for  no  other  reason  than  that  he 
really  and  truly  loved  her  better  than  any  woman  he 
had  ever  met.  Her  proud  beauty  and  haughty  spirit 
held  him  spellbound.  Her  course,  probably,  was  the 
very  best  she  could  have  taken  to  secure  his  affection 
and  constancy.  Had  she  been  the  yielding,  tender 
and  humble  wife,  she  would  most  likely  have  met 
with  coldness  and  neglect  instead  of  love  and  homage. 
She  took  the  role  of  the  arrogant  monarch  and  main- 
tained her  sovereignty  with  an  iron  hand  and  gratify- 
ing success.  Signor  Tancredi  possessed  the  very  wife 
he  required,  and  she  got  the  husband  she  deserved. 
Objectively  and  subjectively  the  Tancredi -Banne- 
mead  alliance  was  a  success. 

How  often  it  occurs  that  the  Sabyrite,  who  made 
every  one  bend  to  his  will  while  a  bachelor,  is 
metamorphosed  into  the  meekest  and  most  amiable  of 


TANCREDI.  189 

husbands  !  The  contemplation  of  such  a  man's  career 
is  an  argument  against  future  punishment.  A 
reformed  rake  makes  a  good  husband,  is  the  proverbial 
outgrowth  of  this  rather  common  experience.  The 
saying,  however,  has  the  ear-marks  of  a  woman,  with 
whom  "  meekness  "  and  "  goodness  "  in  a  husband  are 
convertible  terms.  This  kind  of  a  good  husband 
engenders  small  respect  in  the  wife,  if  she  happens  to 
be  high-minded.  Taneredi  came  very  near  being 
classed  as  a  "  good  "  husband. 

They  passed  the  remainder  of  the  summer  in  the 
north  of  Lombardy,  at  the  town  of  Isola,  situated  on 
the  mountain  river  Lira,  among  the  Rhaetian  Alps. 
This  place,  although  somewhat  out  of  the  route  of 
continental  travel,  is  an  exceedingly  picturesque  and 
delightful  locality,  much  frequented  by  the  Italians 
and  the  visitors  at  lake  Como.  The  idle  life  of  the 
lake  dwellers  was  often  varied  by  visits  among  the 
Ehaetian  and  Leopontine  ranges,  which  stood  like 
huge,  gray-hooded  monks  frowning  at  each  other 
across  the  Spliigen  Pass. 

A  distinguished  coterie  of  the  Signer's  friends 
were  already  quartered  at  the  Spliigen  hotel,  the 
principal  hostelry  in  Isola,  when  he  and  his  wife 
arrived.  Among  the  number  was  his  sister,  Signora 
Adelaide  Cyrello  and  her  husband,  the  latter  an 
official  high  in  favor  at  the  Italian  court. 


190  TANCREDI. 

Signora  Adelaide  was  very  like  her  brother  in 
appearance,  and  was  a  most  intelligent  and  estimable 
woman.  She  had  been  taught  the  English  language, 
but  did  not  speak  it  as  fluently  as  her  brother,  not 
having  had  his  opportunities  for  practising  the  speech. 
Her  willingness  to  learn,  and  her  sweet,  musical  voice, 
so  like  her  brother's,  compensated  for  her  slips  of 
grammar  and  faulty  pronunciation.  She  thought  well 
of  her  brother,  but  not  always  well  of  his  doings, 
among  which  latter  was  his  marriage  with  the  Ameri- 
can. In  a  letter,  in  answer  to  his,  bearing  to  her  the 
announcement  of  his  marriage,  she  had  freely 
expressed  her  adverse  opinion  of  that  transaction, 
which  she  felt  must  be  irregular,  if  not  disgraceful. 
She  shared  in  the  general  opinion  then  prevailing  in 
Europe  that  Americans  were  semi-barbarian  democrats, 
among  whom  the  social  scale  was  kept  level  by  lower- 
ing rank  down  to  the  vulgar  strata.  As  a  member  of 
an  ancient  and  noble  house  she  could  not  realize  how 
her  brother  could  affiliate  with  Americans, 'without 
relinquishing  his  social  status  at  home.  However,  she 
was  not  so  bound  by  prejudice  that  she  was  unwilling 
to  hear  his  side  of  the  story.  Besides,  he  was  her 
brother,  her  only  brother,  and  the  head  of  the  Tan- 
credi  house. 

Up  to  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  her  brother  and 
his  wife,  Signora  Cyrello  was  in  a  state  of  uncertainty 


TANCREDI.  191 

in  regard  to  the  question  of  etiquette  proper  on  the 
occasion  of  the  reception. 

Signora  Adelaide  and  Madam  Tancredi  met  for 
the  first  time  in  the  salon  of  the  Spliigen  hotel. 
When  the  former  was  brought  face  to  face  with  her 
brother's  wife,  she  drew  back  in  surprise,  and,  bestow- 
ing a  frown  on  Michele,  swept  from  the  room  tower- 
ing with  indignation. 

The  guests  were,  of  course,  painfully  embarrassed  at 
this  episode,  but  the  American  maintained  her  self- 
poise  with  the  equanimity  of  one  receiving  an  ovation 
instead  of  contumely.  Before  the  awkward  silence 
was  broken,  Tancredi  came  in  leading  his  sister,  whom 
ho  had  followed  in  the  wake  of  her  exit. 

"My  dear  wife,"  said  he,  "  my  sister  made  a  pain- 
ful mistake ;  she  mistook  you  for  another  person. 
She  hastens  to  repair  the  wrong,  and  crave  your  par- 
don." 

"  Tell  your  sister  that  it  is  a  matter  of  indifference 
to  me  what  or  whom  she  mistook  me  for.  If  her  opin- 
ion, made  up  by  a  glance,  is  unfavorable,  I  beg  her  not 
to  alter  it." 

"  Oh,  say  not  that !  you,  who  deserve  so  well !" 

"  I  was  not  trained  to  accept  politeness  as  a  beggar 
does  alms,  nor  will  I." 

u  But,  my  dear  wife,  yon  will  not  permit  my  sister 
to  explain  ;  that  much  is  due  her." 


192  TAKCREDI. 

"  And  how  much  is  due  me,  pray  ?  Insolence  and 
insult?" 

"  .Nay,  believe  me ;  that  was  a  mistake  ;  a  mistake 
that  you  yourself  might  have  made." 

This  conversation  was  carried  on  in  a  low  voice, 
and  aside  from  the  company. 

"  If  Madam  will  but  bear  my  unfortunate  blunder 
for  one  little  minute,  I  think  she  will  not  so  unkindly 
judge  me,"  interrupted  Signora  Adelaide  in  her  sweet 
voice. 

"  I  bear  with  your  blunder  because  I  choose,  and 
not  to  please  any  person." 

"  I  not  quite  understand  ;  you  forgive  me  ?" 

"  You  have  not  asked  that." 

"  But  I  will.  I  do  ask  you  to  pardon  my  mistake. 
I  was  mistaken ;  I  was  wrong  ;  I  am  sorry.  I  mistook 
you  for  another  woman.  My  brother  my  mistake 
inform  me,  and  now  I  see  my  painful  mistake." 

"  My  sister  mistook  you  for  the  Godardo,"  whis- 
pered Tancredi,  in  his  wife's  ear,  prompted  by  the 
necessity  for  a  full  and  immediate  explanation. 

"I  forgive  you  with  all  my  heart,"  she  eagerly 
exclaimed,  extending  her  hand  in  a  hearty  manner. 

The  candor  with  which  she  forgave  impressed  her 
sister-in-law  very  favorably  ;  she  was  led  to  believe 
that  Madam  Alice  was  possessed  of  a  generous  and 


TANCREDI.  193 

amiable  disposition.     The  husband  saw  in  his  wife's 
behavior  delicate  malignity. 

In  a  tete  a  tete  between  the  two  women,  a  full 
explanation  was  had  of  how  the  error  came  to  be  made. 
The  Italian  woman  would  have  avoided  further  discus- 
sion of  the  unpleasant  subject  after  she  had  said 
enough  to  vindicate  herself  in  the  ejres  of  her  sister- 
in-law,  but  the  latter  was  irrepressible  until  her  curi- 
osity in  that  direction  was  satisfied. 

The  Signora  spoke  of  her  brother's  liaison  with 
forbearance  and  palliation.  She  had  seen  the  canta- 
trice  only  twice,  once  on  the  stage,  and  on  another 
occasion  in  a  carriage. 

"When  I  met  you,"  she  said,  "I  was  confident 
that  you  were  the  cantatrice.  I  felt  very  bitter 
toward  my  brother  for  what  I  believed  to  be  his  base 
deception,  and  for  bringing  shame  and  disgrace  on 
his  family.  I  left  the  room,  sick  at  heart,  angered 
and  mortified.  He  followed  and  gave  me  his  word  of 
honor  that  I  was  deceived,  and  that  you  are  worthy  of 
my  esteem.  And  you  do  resemble  the  singing  woman 
as  I  remember  her.  But  you  cannot  know  my  joy  at 
finding  it  is  you  and  not  her." 

Madam  Tancredi  was  also  full  of  joy — was  over- 
joyed. What  at  ? 

-  First,  the  implied  rebuke  to  her  husband  ;  second, 
the  compliment  paid  to  herself. 


164  TANGRED1. 

The  Godardo,  though  an  Italian,  would  not  have 
been  received  into  the  proud  Tancredi  family,  while 
she,  the  American,  was  welcomed  to  full  membership. 
She  took  much  comfort  out  of  her  success. 

Sometimes,  in  choosing  the  lesser  evil,  we  forget 
that  it  is  still  an  evil.  It  is  probable  that  the  revul- 
sion of  feeling  in  Signora  Adelaide's  case  blinded  her 
to  the  fact,  that  although  the  American  was  not  a  pro- 
fessional singer,  she  was  still  plebeian. 

Madam  Alice  at  one  bound  established  herself  in 
the  good  graces  of  the  distinguished  company  at  Isola. 
It  was  a  real  enjoyment  to  see  this  beautiful  woman, 
almost  without  effort,  breathe  in  the  savoir  vivre  as 
she  did  the  Alpine  air.  Her  inborn  grace,  and  her 
intuitive  ambition  of  elegance,  attracted  all  to  her 
side,  and  before  two  weeks  had  gone  by  she  was  as 
completely  the  reigning  queen  of  that  circle  as  she 
ever  was  in  her  native  city. 

The  company  had  talked  much  of  her  before  her 
expected  arrival.  They  had  promised  themselves 
much  amusement  at  the  backwoods  bizarrie  of  the 
western  barbarian,  as  they  had  named  her.  They 
were  astonished  to  find,  instead  of  the  uncouth  barba- 
rian, the  lady  of  fashion,  grace  and  refinement,  and  a 
woman  who  outranked  them  all  in  beauty. 

With  the  gentlemen  especially  she  was  first  favor- 
ite; indeed  was  so  popular  that  her  distinguished 


TANCREDI.  -  195 

husband  was  scarcely  permitted  to  pay  her  the  most 
common  conjugal  courtesies.  Even  in  their  more 
secluded  moments  he  experienced  small  share  of  that 
wedded  bliss  of  which  the  young  so  fondly  dream,  so 
many  sigh  for,  and  but  few  realize.  He  began  to  sus- 
pect that  he  had  found  one  woman  who  did  not  wor- 
ship him,  and  that  woman  his  wife ;  the  person  of  all 
others  who  should  pay  him  tribute.  The  conqueror 
of  hearts  was  daily  acquiring  new  and  unpleasant 
experiences  in  his  relations  with  the  proud  American 
beauty. 

His  egotism  waned,  but,  strange  to  say,  his  love 
for  his  wife  increased  in  like  proportion.  He  caught 
himself  thinking,  saying  and  doing  things  which  he 
formerly  held  beneath  the  dignity  of  a  Tancredi.  Did 
she  slight  him,  he  fawned  the  more  ;  was  she  indiffer- 
ent, he  became  more  adject,  and  even  her  insolence 
humbled  the  proud  man  in  the  dust.  He  was  un- 
happy, his  observant  friends  saw  it,  and  lowered  their 
estimation  of  the  once  audacious  Lothario. 

The  almost  daily  excursions  by  the  guests  were 
usually  shared  by  Madam  Alice,  nor  was  she  concerned 
about  her  husband's  consent  to  go  and  come  as  she 
willed.  A  bevy  of  gallants  were  always  ready  to 
attend  her  every  step  or  accompany  her  on  her  ram- 
bles am^ng  the  mountains,  or  assist  in  her  adventures, 
some  of  which  startled  the  discreet  Adelaide.  The 


196  TANCREDI. 

latter  would  sometimes  remonstrate  in  a  sweet,  sisterly 
way ;  but  such  appeals  generally  ended  in  a  kiss,  and  in 
Madam  having  her  own  way.  The  two  women  became 
greatly  attached.  Madam  Tancredi  was  sagacious 
enough  to  discern  the  true  nobility  of  Adelaide,  and 
that  on  her  more  than  any  one  else  she  was  dependent 
for  her  exalted  place  in  society  ;  while  the  Signora  saw 
beneath  the  frivolity  of  the  American  a  pure  and  good 
heart,  ruled,  it  was  true,  by  a  brain  a  little  bit  turned 
by  her  sudden  success  in  securing  an  exalted  position 
in  society.  Besides  she  was  the  adored  wife  of  her 
brother,  and  the  promise  of  a  better  life  for  him. 

Madam  Alice  had  come  to  Europe  to  have  a 
"  good  time,"  as  expressed  in  her  western  vernacular, 
and  she  was  bent  on  having  it  in  her  own  way.  Her 
marriage  was  for  a  peculiar  object — the  real  bride- 
groom was  European  Aristocracy,  to  which  her  hus- 
band was  a  little  closer  than  the  priest  who  officiated 
at  the  marriage  altar.  She  therefore  paid  her  principal 
homage  to  the  real  object  of  the  union — society,  for- 
got the  priest,  and  ignored  the  husband.  She  was 
filled  with  ambition,  and,  as  two  bodies  cannot  occupy 
the  same  space,  she  had  no  room  for  conjugal  love. 
The  old  passion  for  conquest  relit  the  fires  on 
her  altar,  and  she  longed  for  the  incense  of  singed 
moths. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  protest  that  this  is  not  a 


TANCREDI.  197 

homily  on  coquettes  or  against  coquettry.  Let  that 
mnliebrous  pastime  continue;  it  is  woman's  dearest 
sport,  where  she  draws  her  keenest  weapon,  and  the 
victims  her  proudest  trophies.  Men  will  come  and  go, 
but  coquettry  goes  forever. 

Keep  it  up,  ye  gallant  dames !  You  will  never 
lack  for  pupils  or  victims.  The  Fool's  school  must 
not  and  will  not  languish!  But  beware  of  two  con- 
tingencies, and  one  of  which  is  bound  to  overtake  you 
at  last — you  will  singe  the  wrong  moth,  or  your  lamp 
will  go  out  for  want  of  oil.  No  homily  is  needed 
against  an  evil  that  carries  with  it  its  own  punish- 
in  ent. 

Madam  Tancredi  singed  the  wrong  moth. 

Among  the  guests  of  the  Spliigen  hotel  was  one 
Baron  Sebastian  von  Waldland,  a  German  nobleman 
from  one  of  the  Rhinish  provinces,  unt  der  beste 
Freund  von  Herr  Tancredi.  The  two  men  had 
become  acquainted  in  Paris,  and  the  Signer  had  spent 
two  months  of  the  previous  summer  at  the  Baron's 
home.  They  fell  into  each  other's  ways,  and  the 
friendship  was  so  strong  that  "Waldland  had  come  all 
the  way  from  Germany  to  Isola  to  congratulate 
Tancredi  on  his  marriage. 

The  Baron  was  short  in  stature,  rather  overweight, 
had  a  rosy  complexion,  blue  eyes  and  flaxen  hair,  and 
was  us  jolly  and  good  n attired  a  fellow  as  could  be 


198  TANCREDI. 

found  anywhere.  Madam  Alice  thought  he  was  the 
queerest  looking  and  queerest  acting  man  she  ever 
met.  He  reminded  her  of  pictures  of  Santa  Clans, 
and  she  called  him  Kriss  Kingle.  She  was  moved  to 
laugh  in  his  face,  but  the  gravity  of  his  rank  kept 
down  her  risibilities,  and  she  compromised  by  smiling 
on  him. 

Baron  Sebastian  was  not  young,  he  was  not  even 
passibly  handsome,  he  had  an  affected  style,  acquired 
by  long  association  with  stylish  people,  he  did  not  talk 
well,  or  dress  in  good  taste,  but  he  was  good-natured, 
and  always  beaming  with  kindness  and  politeness,  at 
least  as  he  understood  what  kindness  and  politeness 
should  be.  Above  everything  else  was  his  devotion 
to  Madam  Tancredi.  Her  service  was  his,  her  pleasure 
his  charge,  her  words  his  commands.  Her  smiles 
captivated  him. 

What  happens  when  a  homely  man  lays  earnest 
siege  to  a  lovely  woman's  heart  ? 

It  generally  comes  to  pass  that  his  suit  is  more 
favorably  received  than  that  of  a  more  pretentious 
suitor. 

If  a  lover  is  devoted  to  his  mistress,  without  being 
too  servile  and  obtrusive,  it  is  small  consequence  what 
his  exterior  may  be,  or  whether  or  not  he  is  rich, 
noble,  or  stylishly  dressed.  Indeed,  as  the  lovers  of 
the  latter  class  presume  on  their  personal  attractions, 


TANCREDI.  199 

rather  than  on  their  do  voted  ness,  the  chances  are  very 
much  in  favor  of  the  plain  suitor.  Ben  Jonson  pre- 
ferred a  cripple  for  a  sweetheart;  probably  because 
she  had  small  temptation  to  share  her  charms  with 
others.  A  homely  man,  being  little  in  demand,  is  not 
likely  to  divide  his  attentions  among  many  charmers. 
It  is  the  plain,  unpretentious  dove  that  perches  on 
the  leafy  bough  and  coos  in  love's  lament,  while  the 
valiant  eagle  soars  high  and  far,  and  looks  down  on  a 
hundred  admirers.  Baron  Sebastian  was  a  social 
dove. 

On  one  occasion  a  hastily  made  up  party  was 
making  ready  for  a  run  down  to  lake  Como,  and  a 
dance ;  the  diligences  were  at  the  door,  some  were 
already  off,  and  others  only  waited  on  the  life  and 
queen  of  the  circle— Madam  Tancredi.  She  was 
brought  in  from  one  of  her  rambles. 

Make  haste,  and  get  ready.  It  was  time  to  be  off. 
"Was  she  not  going  along? 

The  time  was  too  short  ;  the  notification  so  sudden  ; 
•why  had  they  not  told  her  sooner? 

She  knew  it  almost  as  soon  as  any  one.  Signora 
Adelaide  was  one  of  the  leaders  who  had  got  the 
impromptu  affair  up,  and  she  was  even  now  well  on 
her  way  with  her  husband  to  lake  Como.  The 
Signora  fully  expected  Madam  to  be  one  of  the  party. 


200  TANCREDI. 

But  the  Signer,  Madam's  husband,  was  ont  on  the 
mountains,  and  would  not  be  home  till  dark. 

There  was  the  Baron  ;  why  not  press  him  into  her 
service !  He  would  willingly  superintend  the  trans- 
portation of  her  valise. 

Yes,  she  would  go,  and  away  they  went  to  Cemo, 
distant  ten  miles. 

Signora  Adelaide  was  a  little  displeased  because 
her  sister-in-law  come  on  without  her  husband,  and 
she  expressed  her  regret  thereat. 

"  What  possible  harm,  my  dear  Adelaide,  is  there 
in  my  presence  here  without  the  Signor?" 

"  The  harm  is  only  in  appearance,  dear." 

"  Who  will  judge  it  wrong,  even  in  appearance  ? 
Are  we  not  friends,  coming  and  going  carte  blanche  f 
The  very  informality  of  our  associations  ought  to 
prevent  such  hypercriticism." 

"  Well,  sister,  we  will  not  call  it  wrong." 

"  And,  besides,  have  I  not  the  purest  and  most 
discreet  of  sisters  for  my  chaperon  ?  Both  of  us  have 
that  zealous  protector,  Signor  Cyrello.  Then  there's 
my  lackey,  Kriss  Kingle." 

"  I  wish  the  Baron  had  not  come  with  yon." 

"  What  1  Not  jealous  of  the  Baron  !  Why,  he's 
the  most  inoffensive  creature  in  the  world !  He 
prefers  wine  to  women,  and  would  prefer  capon  before 
talking  love,  even  to  me." 


TANCREDI.  201 

"And  yet  he  does  not  pine  all  his  time  eating  and 
drinking,  for  see,  he  comes !  and  I'll  wager  he  seeks 
you  for  the  waltz." 

"  Done  !  Baron,  we  were  speaking  of  yon.  Tell 
us,  do  you  prefer  wine  to  our  society  ? " 

"Ah  !  you  honor  me,  ladies,  by  making  so  much 
notice  for  me  !  My  friends  will  row  on  the  lake,  and 
sent  me  to  ask  you  two  ladies  to  join  us.  Will  you 
go?" 

"  Don't  you  prefer  a  waltz  to  a  sail  on  the  lake  ? 
Hear  the  superb  music !"  said  Madam  Alice. 

"Ach  Gott !  The  diligence  make  me  tired  all 
over !  The  boat  is  better  as  the  dance." 

Signora  Adelaide  declined  the  Baron's  invitation, 
but  urged  Madam  Alice  to  accept.  The  latter  went 
with  the  Baron. 

The  German  had  posted  a  band  of  musicians — a 
harpist,  violinist,  and  a  performer  on  the  guitar,  with 
a  quartette  of  singers,  on  one  of  the  islets  near.  The 
soft,  sweet  strains  of  the  music  came  floating  over  the 
drowsy  waters  like  mystic  melodies  from  isles  en- 
chanted. 

The  night  was  Italian.  The  moon  hung  like  a 
burnished  shield  of  silver  in  that  gorgeous  ether  seen 
in  no  other  sky.  The  dreamy  lake  lay  like  a  steel 
mirror  in  the  mellow  light,  while  islands  and  castles 
cast  grotesque  shadows  on  the  polished  surface. 


203  TANCREDI. 

Far  away  in  the  northwest  the  solemn  mountains 
lifted  up  their  spectre  peaks  against  the  azure;  on  tho 
southern  shore  the  broken  hills  stretched  along  like 
giants  asleep,  and  from  their  gloomy  dells  an  occasional 
convent  bell  rang  out  on  the  still  night. 

Madam  Tancredi,  beware  of  where  thou  art 
drifting ! 

She  heeds  not !  She  is  entranced  !  She  dreams 
on  the  drowsy  waters ;  she  hears  *you  not  small  voice! 
Call  louder  ! 

Float  on,  lotus-lulled  woman,  nor  dream  that  thou 
art  drifting  from  husband,  and  peace  and  good  name ! 

At  midnight,  Tancredi,  haggard  and  excited,  en- 
tered the  place  of  revelry. 

"Where  is  my  wife?"  he  asked  his  sister,  as  soon  as 
he  could  catch  her  private  ear. 

"  She  is  here.  How  troubled  you  look,  Michele 
What  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  But,  take  me  to  my  wife;  I  must  and  will  see  her 
immediately." 

"  Now,  I  think  me,  she  is  out  on  the  lake  ;  it  is 
time  for  her  return.  Sit  down  while  I  order  refresh- 
ments; you  look  tired  and  hungry." 

"  On  the  lake  ?     Who  is  with  her? 

"  A  party  of  friends ;  the  Baron  is  one." 

"  Damnation  !" 

{ '  Michele  !      My  brother !      Now  I  see  ;  now  J 


TANCREDI.  203 

understand  all !  Do  not  speak  it ;  let  me  not  name  it ! 
Let  me  appeal  to  thee,  thus,  and  as  thy  better  angel, 
implore  thee  to  banish  the  fiend  from  thy  thoughts." 

While  speaking,  she  drew  her  arm  around  his 
neck. 

"  But  her  conduct,  my  sister." 

"  She  is  sometimes  imprudent,  never  false.  She  is 
too  proud  to  be  else  than  true." 

"  Believ'st  thou  s^ 'my  sister?"  asked  the  miserable 
husband,  pleased  to  meet  with  doubt  and  opposition  to 
his  suspicions. 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  as  I  say ;  I  cannot  be  deceived  in 
her.  And  now,  let  thy  sister  advise  thee  ;  show  not 
thyself  to  the  company  to-night,  but  retire  at  once. 
Seem  not  to  suspect  thy  wife,  for  if  she  detects  thee 
in  that,  thy  happiness  will  be  marred  forever.  'Tis 
thy  sister  that  pleads  with  thee,  thy  sister,  who  is  as 
jealous  of  thy  good  name  as  thou  cans't  be.  Go  ;  and 
remember  that  thy  wife  is  here  by  my  request,  and 
that  with  my  knowledge  and  consent  she  is  now  enjoy- 
ing a  harmless  sail  on  the  lake.  Good- night !" 

The  next  morning,  to  the  astonishment  of  the 
guests,  the  Signer  put  in  an  appearance  at  breakfast. 
He  showed  by  his  demeanor  that  he  was  acting  on  his 
sister's  advice. 

But,  in  spite  of  re-assuring  remonstrances  from 
Signora  Adelaide,  in  spite  of  his  own  reasoning  and 


204  TANCREDI. 

his  sense  of  honor,  the  green-eyed  monster  took  up  its 
residence  as  his  skeleton-in-closet.  It  grinned  at  him 
with  fanged  jaws,  and  by  times  beat  at  the  door  as  if 
about  to  burst  forth  and  scandalize  the  world  with  its 
hideousness.  He  succeeded  in  suppressing  every 
revolt,  and  keeping  it  locked  up  in  the  dark. 

Early  in  autumn  Signor  Tancredi  and  wife  crossed 
the  Spliigen  Pass,  traveled  through  Switzerland  to  the 
Rhine,  and  down  that  stream  to  Holland,  and  on  to 
Paris,  where  they  arrived  in  October. 


TANCREDI.  205 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"  Lie  in  the  lap  of  Sin  and  not  mean  harm  ? 
It  is  hypocrisy  against  the  devil." 

AMONG  the  persons  whom  Tancredi  first  met  in 
Paris  was  the  stolid  and  irrepressible  German,  Baron 
Sebastian  von  Waldland.  If  that  nobleman  had  been 
endowed  with  the  minimum  sal  Atticum  he  would 
have  instantly  seen  that  the  Signer,  his  late  friend, 
was  anything  but  pleased  to  meet  him.  But  either  he 
did  not,  or  pretended  not  to  feel  the  cold  shoulder. 

"  I  was  looking  for  you  everywhere,  and  I  think 
you  was  make  lost,  my  friend,"  he  said,  as  he  shook 
the  Signer  by  the  unwilling  hand. 

"  I  thought  you  were  in  Madrid  by  this  time," 
replied  the  Italian,  coldly. 

"  I  changed  my  mind." 

Tancredi  attempted  to  pass  on,  but  the  obtuse  fel- 
low would  not  be  shaken. 

"  I  am  glad  you  come ;"  said  he,  standing  in  the 
way  of  the  impatient  Signer.  "I  wouldn't  rent 
rooms  till  I  got  your  opinion.  Will  you  look  at  them 
to-day,  and  shall  we  go  to  them  new  ?" 


208  TANCREDI. 

"  Not  to-day.  I  am  bnt  just  arrived  myself,  and 
not  settled  down.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  look  at 
them  now." 

"Well,  then,  to-morrow.  Shall  I  expect  you 
to-morrow  ?" 

On  the  morrow  forenoon  the  two  men  inspected 
the  rooms  referred  to,  situated  on  the  Rue  Lafitte,  and 
as  they  were  pronounced  fit  to  shelter  a  prince,  the 
Baron  closed  the  bargain  with  the  petit  hostess,  who 
carried  enough  keys  at  her  girdle  to  open  all  the  colls 
in  the  Bastile  itself. 

In  the  afternoon,  Tancredi  rented  an  establishment 
for  himself  and  wife  on  the  South  Boulevart  St.  Ger- 
main, as  far  removed  from  his  evil  genius  as  was  con- 
sistent with  living  in  fashionable  Paris. 

But  go  where  he  would,  he  met  the  Baron.  He 
did  not  wish  to  quarrel  with  the  fellow,  for  that  would 
require  explanations  which  his  sense  of  dignity  could 
not  tolerate.  The  dullard  would  not  take  the  broad 
hints  offered  him.  If  he  would  only  commit  some 
overt  act  which  would  serve  as  an  ostensible  excuse  for 
cutting  his  acquaintance  ;  but  no,  each  day  found  him 
more  and  more  complaisant. 

lie  had,  notwithstanding  his  stupidity,  a  cunning 
force  about  him  which  inveigled  the  Signer  into  din- 
ing with  him. 

"  My  rooms  must  be  christened,  you  know,"   he 


TAXCREDI.  207 

said,  and,  in  spite  of  himself,  Tancredi  found  himself 
seated  at  the  Baron's  board,  with  the  spirits  of  a  monu- 
mental urn  at  a  funeral  repast. 

It  was  next  to  impossible  to  evade  the  suave  but 
pig-headed  Sebastian.  His  stolidity  was  proof  against 
excuse  or  argument.  Indeed,  with  him,  argumentation 
was  an  organic  blank,  as  is  the  musical  faculty  in  a 
mule.  He  never  argued,  scarcely  knew  the  meaning 
of  the  term.  All  the  indignant  Signer  could  do  was 
to  grin  and  bear  with  him,  and  in  a  measure  return  his 
civilities.  Before  ten  days  had  elapsed,  the  Baron  had 
resumed  his  familiar  footing  in  the  Tancredi  family, 
which  had  been  abruptly  broken  off  in  the  valley 
of  the  Lira. 

Madam  Alice  had  not  the  slightest  suspicion  of 
her  husband's  jealousy  of  the  Baron,  or  that  his 
friendship  for  that  person  had  cooled.  She  was  really 
gratified  at  the  renewal  of  the  acquaintance  with  the 
droll  fellow,  and  said  so.  She  was  a  stranger  in  Paris, 
and  trusted  that  he  might  serve  in  driving  away  the 
ennui  which  already  threatened  her.  Her  husband's 
friends  were  not  to  appear  in  Paris  until  after  Christ- 
inas, and  until  they  did  come,  it  would  be  convenient 
and  agreeable  to  have  near  her  one  of  the  old  Alpine 
companions  to  talk  over  the  exploits  of  the  past  sum- 
mer. Besides,  the  Baron  had  the  entree  of  good 


208  TANCREDI. 

society,  and  was  therefore  capable  of  rendering  her 
good  service. 

She  had  not  a  spark  of  feeling  for  him  that  could 
be  construed  into  love.  She  had  no  more  thought  of 
flirting  with  him,  than  she  had  of  eloping  with  Signer 
Cyrello,  her  brother-in-law.  A  feeling  equally  well 
defined  alike  by  honor  and  pride  would  have  kept  her 
clear  of  indiscretion,  even  if  she  had  been  tempted  to 
flirt  with  the  Baron ;  but  she  was  not  even  tempted. 

And  yet  she  liked  the  German  nobleman  in  a  way. 
That  way  carried  with  it  its  own  interpretation  to  her 
conscience,  but  it  would  have  been  remarkable  if  her 
husband  and  the  Baron  did  not  misinterpret  her 
behavior. 

Her  husband  saw  in  her  actions  the  occult  but 
significant  encouragement  of  the  Baron's  almost  open 
passion  for  her.  Jealousy  lent  him  her  spectacles. 

The  German  was  attracted  by  her  smiles.  Her 
apathy  for  her  husband  confirmed  him  in  the  belief 
that  she  was  partial  to  his  suit.  His  hope  was  carried 
along  by  stages,  until  he  finally  believed  that  by  devo- 
tion and  patience  he  was  sure  of  his  coveted  prize. 
Devotion  and  patience  constituted  his  stock  in  trade, 
and  he  settled  down  in  earnest  to  the  siege. 

It  has  already  been  shown  how  Madam  Tancredi 
viewed  the  affair,  or  rather  how  she  did  not  view  it, 
for  as  an  affair  it  had  no  existence  in  her  mind. 


TANCREDI.  200 

She  was  so  accustomed  to  flattering  attentions  from 
the  men  that  she  had  come  to  hold  their  homage  as  her 
due,  and  hence  she  received  the  devotions  of  the  Baron 
as  her  right  to  a  claim  established  by  custom  and  usage. 
She  respected  his  title,  was  flattered  by  his  keen  inter- 
est in  her  welfare,  and  grateful  for  his  generosity ;  but 
she  never  dreamed  of  him  as  a  lover,  and  least  of  all  as 
her  lover.  He  was  to  her  an  unassuming,  harmless, 
good-natured  fellow,  too  platonic  for  romance,  and  too 
epicurean  for  so  ethereal  a  passion  as  love.  Yet  she 
did  flatter  herself  that,  next  to  eating  and  drinking,  he 
liked  her  better  than  he  did  any  one  else,  just  as  many 
other  men  of  her  acquaintance  admired  her.  Thus  she 
came  to  monopolize  his  attentions,  and  finally  to  elect 
him  a  kind  of  knight  errant,  for  which  service  she  paid 
him  in  smiles  and  gracious  words. 

Had  a  friend  said  to  her,  "  Beware  of  the  Baron  !  " 
she  would  have  laughed,  and  mockingly  replied,  beware 
my  hairdresser,  the  butler,  the  valet  de  chamlre,  or  be- 
ware any  man  who  serves  me.  Baron  Sebastian  is  my 
factotum,  not  my  lover. 

Thus  this  single  and  simple  affair,  which  should 
have  been  plainly  intelligible  to  every  unbiased  mind, 
was  warped  and  colored  by  the  three  minds,  weighted 
with  vanity,  jealousy,  and  lust. 

It  is  not  a  question  of  which  passion  is  the  more 
blameworthy,  since  each  one  put  out  the  eyes  of  reason 


210  TANCKEDI. 

and  led  the  victim  into  folly.  Mischief  is  the  inevit- 
able sequence  when  a  coquettish  wife,  a  jealous  hus- 
band and  a  voluptuary  are  thrown  together.  The  story 
of  the  eating  of  forbidden  fruit  may  be  a  fable,  but  it 
contains  the  triune  elements  which  make  it  possible. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Tancredi  received 
Berta's  letter. 

The  Signer  began  to  feel,  with  Othello,  that  his 
occupation  was  gone,  when  he  learned  how  readily 
Eosetta  turned  from  him  to  another.  He  was  no  longer 
in  demand  among  females  ;  even  Rosetta  had  forgotten 
him.  The  coldness  of  his  wife  surprised  and  pained 
him,  but  he  was  dumbfounded  at  the  behavior  of  the 
cantatrice.  If  he  had  ever  felt  secure  of  any  woman's 
love,  it  was  that  of  Rosetta's ;  and,  behold,  it  was  gone  ! 
He  could  believe  anything  after  that,  even  the  incon- 
stancy of  his  wife.  He  was  prepared  for  any  new 
humiliation. 

If  Rosetta  had  played  him  false,  what  could  he 
expect  of  his  wife  ?  The  latter  had  never  loved  him 
with  the  tithe  of  the  passion  felt  by  the  former,  and 
therefore  it  would  require  less  temptation  to  deflect 
her  from  the  straight  line  of  honor  and  duty.  He  dis- 
trusted his  wife  more  and  more  after  hearing  of 
Rosetta's  desertion,  and  saw  every  day  what  were  to 
him  flagrant  proofs  of  her  inconstancy. 

Apart  from  the  fact  that  the   Baron  was  playing 


TANCREDI.  211 

with  fire  over  a  powder  magazine,  it  was  amusing  to 
watch  his  actions  in  the  role  of  a  Lothario.  He  exhib- 
ited three  sides  to  view,  the  philosophic,  the  tragic  and 
the  humorous.  He  started  a  problem  in  race  physi- 
ology. What  effect  has  race  on  a  lover? 

The  North  American  savage  courts  his  dusky 
squaw  by  prowess  and  strategy.  He  is  fleet  of  foot 
and  long-winded. 

The  Englishman  is  mated  by  primordial  stipulation 
— his  matrimonial  fate  is  provided  for  by  decree. 
Leisure,  beef  and  conservatism  take  the  place  of  pas- 
sion and  adventure. 

The  Frenchman  wins  his  way  to  woman's  smiles  by 
blandishment — he  bows  and  gyrates,  he  is  agile,  witty 
and  polite. 

The  American  courts,  as  he  does  everything,  in  a 
sweat.  He  is  restless  and  lean,  daring  and  ambitious. 

The  German  Baron  was  lusty  and  healthy,  stolid 
and  conceited.  He  had  ever  paid  his  court  to  woman 
as  to  an  inferior  being — a  being  educated  to  receive 
his  caresses  as  his  light  and  her  duty,  not  to  be  ques- 
tioned. 

But  now  he  was  paying  his  court  to  a  woman  grad- 
uated in  a  different  school.  Her  love  was  to  be  won, 
not  commanded  ;  he  therefore  changed  his  tactics. 
His  change  of  methods  included  a  change  in  the  man 
also.  He  began  to  sweat  and  lose  flesh.  He  grew 


212  TANCREDI. 

restless,  lost  his  appetite,  drank  less  wine,  slept  less 
soundly — he  went  to  work  on  the  American  plan. 

He  became  more  lavish  and  exquisite  in  dress  and 
jewelry,  had  his  towy  hair  dyed  a  smoky  black,  drank 
cocktails,  and  even  went  BO  far  as  to  come  out  a  rad- 
ical Whig,  and  violently  assailed  the  administration  of 
Jackson.  The  Baron  sank  his  nationality,  sacrificed 
his  class  prerogative,  and  assumed  a  character  which, 
although  ridiculous,  would  have  been  creditable  had 
his  motives  been  patriotic  and  his  love  honorable. 

Of  course  Madam  Tancredi's  head  was  turned  with 
the  beautiful,  the  voluptuous  Paris,  where  pleasure  is 
reduced  to  a  science,  and  practised  as  the  first  of  all 
fine  arts.  She  was  about  to  enter  into  its  exquisite 
mysteries,  and  drink  of  its  famed  enchantments.  She 
was  wealthy  in  her  own  right,  was  young,  beautiful 
and  accomplished,  and  wedded  into  a  noble  and  influ- 
ential family.  No  society  was  too  patrician  for  her. 
Her  conceit  began  at  i\\Q  faubourg  du  beau  monde,  and 
stopped  in  the  centre  of  le  grand  cerde  de  Tuilleries. 

Her  first  step  was  to  secure  an  establishment  in  a 
fashionable  quarter,  and  in  keeping  with  her  rank  and 
station.  She  summarily  vetoed  the  selection  made  by 
her  husband,  and  prevailed  on  him  to  secure  a  man- 
sion on  the  handsome  Boulevart  des  Italians,  which 
was  not  then  filled  with  shops  as  now. 

The  external  wonders   of  the  city,  its  boulevards, 


TANCREDI.  ,     218 

public  bnildings,  picture  galleries  and  theatres,  oc- 
cupied her  time,  and  afforded  her  passable  amusement 
until  after  Christmas,  when  the  Cyrellos  joined  them. 

Madam  Alice  gave  a  ball  in  honor  of  the  arrival  of 
her  sister-in-law.  It  was  a  fair  success,  most  a  success 
as  the  initial  of  a  round  of  merry-making  in  which 
Madam  played  a  conspicuous  part,  and  all  through 
which,  to  the  very  close,  she  maintained  her  reputation 
for  beauty,  grace  and  grandeur,  with  as  much  ease  as 
when  she  ruled  queen  of  the  more  sober  assemblages 
of  the  American  republic. 

But  she  had  her  worry.  With  her,  ambition  was  not 
quite  satiated.  She  could  not  forget  that  her  position 
in  European  society  was  due  to  the  influential  family 
into  which  she  had  married.  Every  acquaintance  sho 
had  made,  and  every  pleasure  enjoyed  by  her,  were 
owing  to  the  patronage  of  her  husband  and  his  family. 
She  keenly  felt  the  abasement.  In  spite  of  her  inde- 
pendence she  was  dependent.  This  proud,  self-willed 
American,  imbued  from  her  cradle  up  with  the 
doctrine  of  equal  rights — that  seductive  slogan  of 
republics — could  no  more  brook  social  kings  than 
political  kings.  She  felt  herself  the  equal  of  any 
Tancredi  that  ever  wore  a  coronet. 

This  subjection,  so  galling  to  her  pride,  was  one 
reason  why  she  treated  her  husband  so  disdainfully. 
She  could  not  shake  off  the  Italian  guiding  reins,  but 


214  TANCREDI. 

she  took  the  bit  in  her  teeth  and  run  away  with  tho 
proprieties.  She  was  exacting,  tyrannical,  imprudent 
and  headstrong.  She  selected  the  Paris  residence,  and 
she  claimed  proprietorship  over  Baron  Sebastian. 

At  a  soiree  given  by  Madam  Milon,  a  friend  and 
schoolmate  of  Signora  Adelaide,  she  met,  for  the  first, 
time  since  her  marriage,  the  Yicompte  Bertrand,  the 
attache  of  the  French  Legation  at  Washington,  and 
spoken  of  in  a  former  chapter  of  this  book. 

Here  was  one  acquaintance  she  did  not  owe  to  her 
husband  or  his  family.  He  was  her  own  friend,  and, 
compared  with  those  about  her,  an  old  familiar  friend. 
She  had  met  him  in  the  long  ago,  during  the  romantic 
days  of  maidenhood,  in  America,  at  home. 

Those  who,  on  distant  shores,  have  met  persons 
from  home,  from  the  same  loved  home,  will  appreciate 
Madam's  feelings  at  meeting  the  Count  under  such 
circumstances  as  surrounded  her.  The  heart  almost 
leaps  out  to  meet  our  acquaintances  on  such  occasions. 
Long  and  bitter  feuds  have  been  forgotten  and  for- 
given by  an  accidental  meeting  among  Alpine  solitudes, 
and  the  coldness  of  a  formal  acquaintance  has  melted 
into  the  warmest  friendship  by  a  toilsome  companion- 
ship among  the  snows  of  Jung  Frau,  or  the  glaciers  of 
Mont  Blanc, 

The  stately  atmosphere  surrounding  Madam  was 
quickened  by  the  warm  presence  of  her  friend,  Count 


TANCREDI.  215 

Bertrand.  The  sight  of  him  awakened  memories  of 
home  and  country.  He  was  at  her  side  in  a  moment, 
pouring  into  her  willing  ear  congratulations  at  her 
marriage,  and  his  pleasure  at  meeting  her  in  his  native 
land. 

"  Welcome  to  Paris,  my  dear  Madam,  welcome ! 
If  you  will  permit  one  to  greet  you,  who  is  himself 
but  just  arrived  after  an  absence  of  three  years.'' 

"  Thank  you,  Count  Bertrand.  But  are  you  just 
come  from  America  ?  And  what  news  do  you  bring 
from  there  ?  Pray  sit  down  beside  me  and  tell  me,  for 
I  am  starving  to  hear  from  home." 

"  But  just  arrived,  Madam,  and  the  news  I  bring 
is,  your  countrymen  are  preparing  for  the  coup 
d'etat  ; — what  do  you  call  him  ?" 

"  Change  of  administration  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  the  inauguration  of  President  Van  Buren. 
What  a  mistake  your  General  Jacksong  make ! 
What  opportunities !  What  a  destiny  he  throw  away  ! 
He  like  the  Grand  Emperor  in  everything  but  that. 
Bonaparte  not  act  the  infant,  the  imbecile,  like  that ! 
The  Grand  Bank!  The  Grand  Armee  1  Tour  infant 
Jacksong  he  fling  zem  all  away !  The  imbecile !" 

"  You  don't  understand.  My  countrymen  are  all 
sovereigns,  and  jealous  of  other  rulers,  even  of  Jackson, 
the  man  of  whom  they  are  proud.  The  people  ore 
wary  of  bestowing  patronage  and  power  in  the  hands 


210  TANCREDI. 

of  their  officials,  and  they  are  right.  Were  the  people 
of  the  United  States  to  give  their  President  the  Bank, 
it  would  be  giving  him  vast  patronage  and  power, 
which  would  be  the  source  of  danger  in  the  hands  of 
the  unscrupulous.  All  honor  to  Jackson  for  refusing 
it !  We  might  as  well  give  our  President  a  crown  as  a 
National  Bank." 

"  Ah !  Bien  Dieu !  That  the  mistake,  the  grand 
mistake  of  America  !  The  ignorant,  the  demagogue, 
the  irresponsible  to  rule  ;  that  the  grand  mistake  !  It 
can' t  last  forever." 

"  No  government  lasts  that  long,  not  even  France, 
that  has  experimented  with  all  forms  of  government 
from  imperialism  to  anarchism,  and  back  again,  and 
yet  contented  herself  with  none.  But  tell  me  some- 
thing outside  of  politics,  for  it  is  plain  that  you  and  I 
will  not  agree  on  that  topic.  Tell  me  of  American 
society,  what  it  says  and  does." 

"  It  misses  the  charming  Miss  Bannemead." 

"  Ah,  I  see  you  have  not  forgotten  how  to  flatter  ! 
I  should  think  that  after  three  years  sojourn  among 
plain  dealing  republicans  you  would  have  learned 
what  candor  means.  You  are  the  true  Parisian  still !" 

"Shall  I  tell  you,  candid,  what  I  learned  in 
America  ?" 

«  Yes,  pray." 

"  I  learned  that  you  are  the  most  charming  woman 


TANCREDI.  217 

in  the  world.  You  deserve  Paris,  and  Paris  deserves 
you." 

"  There  you  go,  again  !  Worse,  and  more  of  it ! 
You  don't  believe  the  half  you  say." 

"  Not  believe  !  Ah,  it  is  you  who  doubts  !  You 
will  never  know  how  I  worship  you  !" 

"  I  shall  put  your  devotion  to  a  severe  test,  nay,  to 
many  severe  trials,  ere  I  leave  Paris,  iny  friend.  But 
before  the  ordeal  of  battle,  I  give  you  one  more  chance 
to  renounce  your  hasty  declaration." 

"  Learn  then  that  I  am  your  slave.  See,  my  ship's 
burning !" 

"  There,  that  will  do,  Count  Bertrand.  I  will  not 
allow  you  to  compromise  your  freedom  in  so  forlorn  a 
cause.  Kepentance  will  follow  your  rashness,  and  you 
will  desert  me  at  last.  Beware !" 

"  Put  me  to  the  test,  Madam  ;  I  am  ready  to 
obey  your  every  command." 

"  Well,  I  am  here  to  enjoy  Paris ;  you  can  help 
me.  Can  I  count  on  your  knightship  ?" 

"  I  pledge  my  glove  to  lift  lance  in  no  cause  but 
thine." 

This  conversation  was  only  the  badinage  of  temper- 
ament, seasoned  with  the  hyperbole  of  polite  license, 
and  as  harmless  as  the  sparks  struck  from  flint  and 
steel.  At  least  it  was  harmless  while  it  remained  the 
confidential  by-play  of  two  wits,  as  were  Madam  and 


218  TANCREDI. 

the  Count.  But  unfortunately  such  jeu  de  mots  are 
too  often  followed  by  conduct  correspondingly  free 
and  easy,  when  it  is  no  longer  simple  pleasantry 
between  two  friends. 

The  flirtations  carried  on  between  Madam  Alice 
and  Count  Bertrand  were  not  concealed,  nor  was  there 
attempt  at  concealment,  since  they  were  only  meant  as 
innocent  pastime  of  two  dashing  people.  But  society, 
and  especially  the  observant  and  suspicious  husband, 
was  not  so  charitable  as  to  view  their  conduct  as 
they  meant  it  should  he  viewed. 

The  Baron,  too,  saw  and  formed  his  opinion.  He 
took  pains  to  impress  the  Count  with  his  competitive 
presence,  and  the  two  men  tacitly  agreed  to  hold  each 
other  as  enemies.  The  Baron  was  inclined  to  show  his 
teeth,  but  the  gay  Count  treated  him  with  the  disdain 
he  would  a  menial,  which  only  exasperated  the  Ger- 
man that  much  the  more. 

Madam  Alice  looked  on  and  smiled  at  the  rivalry. 
To  her  it  had  no  serious  aspect,  and  was  only  a  stir- 
ring compliment  to  her.  Not  many  ladies  could 
boast  of  having  two  noblemen  at  dagger's  point  on 
their  account.  It  required  the  most  skillful  finessing 
to  maintain  her  supremacy  with  both  lovers.  Partial- 
ity shown  either  would  offend  the  other,  and  possibly 
precipitate  a  discreditable  scene.  The  Baron  was  the 
more  stubborn  and  troublesome,  while  the  less  impor- 


TANCKEDL  219 

tunate  Frenchman  was  disposed  to  yield  rather  than 
endure  the  presence  of  his  despicable  rival. 

Let  not  the  behavior  of  these  two  gentlemen  be 
misunderstood.  It  was  not  flagrant,  it  was  scarcely 
indiscreet,  and  is  equalled  every  day  by  society  men, 
who  are  not  supposed  to  infringe  on  the  rules  of  deco- 
rum. Their  conduct  was  reprehensible,  chiefly  be- 
cause of  its  exclusiveness  toward  a  married  woman 
with  a  jealous  husband. 

The  truth  is,  Madam  Alice,  although  not  always 
circumspect,  was  sagacious,  and  firm  as  a  rock  ;  it  was 
no  effort  for  her  to  permit  passion's  wave  to  rise  so 
far,  but  no  farther.  While  her  speech  and  manner 
had  in  thorn  the  banter  of  invitation,  yet  there  was  a 
proud  haughtiness  in  her  demeanor  that  restrained  her 
admirers,  and  kept  them  within  the  bounds  of  respect- 
ful moderation. 

The  Baron,  too,  was  cautious,  and  ye-tbis  sneaking, 
underhand  ways,  indicated  the  degree  of  his  infatua- 
tion and  determination.  The  attentions  of  the  viva- 
cious Frenchman  were  open,  and,  in  a  way,  manly. 
His  bonhomie  gave  him  license  ;  she  laughed  at  his 
compliments,  and  treated  his  vows  as  the  empty  gal- 
lantries of  a  privileged  courtier. 


22C  TANCREDI. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"  High  minds  of  native  pride  and  force, 
Most  deeply  feel  thy  pting's,  remorse." 

FIFTY  years  ago  !  If  any  one  lives  who  knew 
Paris  that  long  ago,  they  will  surely  recollect  the  cafe 
restaurant,  Cadran  Bleu,  at  that  time,  and  for  many 
years  the  most  famous  establishment  of  its  kind  in 
that  city,  and,  for  that  matter,  in  the  world.  It  was 
situated  fronting  on  the  Boulevard  du  Temple.  On 
the  first  floor  front,  was  a  cozy  alcove,  formed  by  a 
partition  built  to  conceal  an  unused  stairway.  This 
retreat,  named  trou  dans  le  mur,  contained  a  small 
table  and  two  chairs,  and  was  the  favorite  lounging 
place  for  the  idler  who  was  fortunate  to  find  it  vacant. 
In  addition  to  its  seclusion  it  afforded  its  occupant 
opportunity  for  seeing  all  that  went  on  in  the  main 
saloon  without  himself  being  seen. 

It  was  two  days  after  the  court  ball,  given  by  the 
King,  Louis  Phillipe,  that  Yicornpte  Bertrand  was  seated 
in  this  alcove,  leisurely  sipping  wine  and  smoking  a 
cigar.  He  gazed  abstractedly  out  the  front  window 
at  the  throng  on  the  street,  while  his  thoughts  ran  on 
the  king's  ball  and  the  people  he  had  met  there. 


TANCREDI.  221 

Among  them,  and  now  uppermost  in  his  thoughts, 
was  Madam  Tancredi,  who  rivaled  the  proudest 
beauties  of  the  brilliant  French  court.  Her  dress, 
worn  on  the  occasion,  was  a  marvel  of  gorgeous 
beauty,  and  never  was  her  loveliness  more  bewitching 
or  her  wit  more  sparkling  than  when  she  stood  among 
the  illustrious  throng  that  filled  the  salons  of  the 
Tuilleries.  The  praise  of  Le  Belle  Americaine  was  on 
every  tongue ;  the  Citizen  King  himself  honored  her 
with  flattering  notice. 

The  gratified  husband  forgot  his  heart-burnings  as 
he  watched  his  prond  wife.  Her  triumph,  to  his 
mind,  was  the  deserved  tribute  paid  the  most  admira- 
ble woman  in  the  world.  As  she  swept  past  him  lean- 
ing on  the  arm  of  a  prince,  his  heart  swelled  with  joy 
and  pride.  She  filled  the  measure  of  his  ideal  woman, 
for  whom  no  sacrifice  was  too  great  if  repaid  by  her 
smiles. 

But  her  smiles  that  evening  were  not  for  him.  He 
was  consoled,  however,  when  he  saw  that  she  had  no 
smiles  for  her  usual  satellites,  the  Count  and  the 
Baron. 

The  persevering  Baron,  by  rare  fortune,  or  by  his 
impudence,  did  manage  to  secure  her  for  a  brief  waltz. 
With  this  exception,  the  two  rivals  were  baffled  at 
every  turn  by  more  distinguished  suitors,  and  they 


222  TANCREDI. 

expressed  their  common  chagrin  by  scowling  at  each 
other. 

All  this  was  running  through  the  Count's  mii.d  as 
he  lounged  in  the  hole-in-the-wall  at  the  Cadran  Bleu. 
He  had  not  met  Madam  Tancredi  since  the  ball;  and 
he  regretted  the  rash  vow  he  had  made  to  never  see 
her  again.  He  sighed,  and  poured  out  another  glass 
of  wine. 

He  now  became  conscious  of  the  presence  of  a  loud- 
talking  party  of  gentlemen  in  the  main  saloon,  where 
they  sat  around  a  table  drinking.  A  remark  made  by 
one  of  them,  struck  his  ear  as  a  familiar  voice,  and  on 
looking  through  the  small  opening  in  the  wall  he  saw 
that  the  speaker  was  Baron  Sebastian  von  Waldland. 

"And  you,  too,  Baron,  are  one  of  the  favored 
friends  of  the  beautiful  American  ;  how  lucky  !" 

"  I  have  that  distinguished  honor,"  replied  tho 
Baron,  with  affected  modesty. 

"  You  even  danced  with  her  at  the  Tuilleries  Ball ! 
Lucky  fellow !  Where  did  you  make  her  acquaint- 
ance ?" 

"  In  Lombardy.  I  passed  the  summer  with  her 
and  her  husband." 

"  What  sort  of  a  person  is  he  ?  The  Signor  looks 
distinguished,  and,  I  am  told,  is  an  Italian  nobleman." 

"  Oh,  he's  so,  so  !     He  is  an  Italian  nobleman  ;  but 


TAKCREDI.  223 

what  of  that  ?  I  don't  think  his  wife  cares  ranch  for 
him,"  answered  Sebastian  in  a  contemptuous  tone. 

"  Indeed  !  Why,  he  appears  very  fond  of,  and 
devoted  to  her.  How's  that?" 

"  Oh,  very  watchful  and  jealous,  you  mean," 
exclaimed  Waldland. 

"  Jealous?     Of  whom  should  he  be  jealous,  pray  ?" 

"  That  is  a  leading  question  ;  do  you  think  it  would 
be  just  the  square  thing  to  give  that  person  away  ?" 
asked  the  Baron,  with  a  wink,  and  a  leer  around  the 
table. 

"  O,  Lord !  Not  jealous  of  you,  Sebastian !" 
exclaimed  one  of  the  party. 

They  all  laughed  at  the  contemplation  of  Tancre- 
di's  endangered  honor,  and  the  vanity  of  the  Baron  in 
the  invidious  inuendo  which  made  him  out  the  intri- 
guer. 

The  laugh  was  interpreted  aright,  for  he  attempted 
to  look  savage. 

"  Why,  didn't  you  know  that  the  Baron  is  a  lady- 
killer  3"  asked  one  of  the  gentlemen,  who  appeared  to 
be  but  slightly  impressed  with  the  ridiculous  bravado 
of  his  companion. 

"  No !  you  don't  tell  me !  I  have  heard  him 
spoken  of  as  one  who  has  killed  his  man,  but  never  as 
a  lady-killer,"  replied  another,  with  the  evident  intent 
of  ridiculing  the  statement  made  by  the  Baron, 


324  TANCREDI. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  we  may  look  for  a  duel  one  of 
these  mornings  before  breakfast.  What  say  you, 
Sebastian ;  is  there  a  prospect  for  a  fight  between  you 
and  the  Italian  ?" 

"Amuse  yourselves,  gentlemen,"  replied  the 
Baron,  goaded  into  showing  his  mettle.  "  Your  talk 
may  have  a  more  serious  meaning  than  you  intend." 

"  What !  has  it  gone  so  far  as  that  2" 

"It  has  gone  so  far  that  the  Signer,  who  was  my 
best  friend,  is  now  my  worst  foe.  What  can  be  his 
grudge  if  it  is  not  his  wife's  partiality  for  me,  and 
mine  for  her  ?" 

"  Do  you  really  think  that  she  is  partial  to  you,  or 
that  the  Signer's  coldness  for  you  is  caused  by  the  sus- 
picion that  you  are  her  lover  ?" 

"  What  else  ?  But  what  care  I  ?  Is  she  not  worth 
risking  a  life  for?  For  her  I  would  fight  a  duel  any 
day.  Say,  you  who  have  seen  her,  is  she  not  worth 
fighting  for  ?" 

"  Her  beauty  and  grace  are  unquestionable  ;  but 
will  fighting  win  her  ?  For  my  part  I  do  not  think  so. 
She  is  not  the  style  of  women  that  get  mixed  up  in 
our  too  common  liaisons,"  said  a  pale  youth,  who 
spoke  for  the  first  time. 

"  Ah,  Clarence  ;  child.  You  are  always  looking 
at  women  as  you  do  at  your  paintings — beauty  and 
virtue,  one  and  inseparable.  All  beautiful  women  are 


TANCREDI.  235 

not  Madonnas,  my  friend,"  said  the  Baron  in  a  patron- 
izing manner. 

"  And  you  are  always  placing  a  base  construction 
on  the  acts  of  every  woman  who  may  be  polite  to  you. 
A  chaste  woman  might  as  well  sleep  under  a  Upas  as 
look  kindly  on  you.  Now,  I  believe  that  this  beauti- 
ful American  has  been  polite  to  you  and  nothing 
more,"  retorted  the  young  artist,  with  a  rising  flush  of 
anger  on  his  pale  face. 

"I'll  wager  you  a  thousand  francs  and  the  supper 
that  before  next  May,  Madam  Tancredi  will  be  with 
me  in  Madrid,"  exclaimed  the  Baron,  rising  to  his 
feet. 

"  I  accept  the  wager,"  defiantly  cried  the  artist, 
throwing  down  his  purse  on  the  table. 

Count  Bertrand  sprang  from  the  alcove  with  the 
agility  of  a  cat  and  dashed  a  glass  of  wine  in  the  sur- 
prised Baron's  face. 

"  Scoundrel !  Tou  shall  answer  for  this  !  You 
know  where  to  find  me,"  exclaimed  Bertrand,  and  was 
gone  before  the  party  could  fully  realize  what  was 
done. 

As  the  Count  anticipated,  he  was  that  evening 
waited  on  by  a  friend  of  the  Baron  with  a  challenge 
to  fight. 

''I  name  the  Grand  Cascade,  Bois  de  Boulogne, 
10* 


226  TANCREDI. 

the  place;  sunrise  to-morrow,  the  time;  the  rapier,  the 
weapon,"  was  the  answer. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  accompany  the  duellos  to  the 
sanguinary  field.  By  staying  away  the  battle  can  be 
waged  to  suit  the  more  or  less  martial  disposition  of 
the  individual  reader,  and  fancy  can  have  full  play  in 
the  field  drama,  accordingly  as  it  shall  endow  the  rival 
swordsmen  with  skill,  bravery,  or  good  fortune.  Of 
course  it  is  probable  that  all  will  sympathize  with  the 
gallant  Frenchman,  who  has  undertaken  the  perilous 
task  of  punishing  the  traducer  of  a  lovely  woman's 
character ;  but  history  must  be  inexorable  if  worthy  of 
credence,  even  if  patriots  bleed  in  vain,  traitors  trail 
freedom  in  the  dust,  or  woman's  tarnished  honor  goes 
unredressed.  The  Count  was  disabled  by  receiving  an 
ugly  but  not  mortal  thrust  in  his  sword  arm.  The 
Baron  immediately  fled. 

Too  many  persons  knew  of  the  affair,  besides  it 
was  too  fond  a  sensation,  to  remain  a  secret  from  the 
gossipy  Parisians,  and  before  twenty-four  hours  the 
duel  was  the  talk  of  the  town. 

Tancredi  and  wife  were  seated  at  breakfast  when 
he  first  learned  of  the  affair  by  reading  the  account  in 
a  newspaper. 

"  So,  Madam,  your  penchant  for  surrounding  your- 
self with  profligate  adventurers  is  beginning  to  bear 
fruit!  Read  that!" 


TANCREDT.  237 

The  alarmed  woman  seized  the  paper  and  read 
•what  is  given  here  as  a  translation. 

"  Two  gentlemen,  well  known  in  tlie  fashionable 
circles  of  Paris,  have  just  terminated  a  sanguinary 
conflict  with  rapiers  in  the  Bois  du  Boulogne. 
Yicompte  Bertrand  Tridensat  is  the  victim,  having 
been  transfixed  by  the  weapon  of  his  rival,  Baron 
Sebastian  von  Waldland,  and  it  is  thought  cannot 
recover.  The  Baron  has  fled  from  France.  It  is  the 
more  pity,  since  the  quarrel  grew  out  of  the  jealous 
rivalry  between  the  two  noblemen  for  the  favors  of 
the  woman  called  the  Belle  Americaine,  who  so 
recently  flashed  like  a  comet  on  society.  It  is  said 
that  she  tried  the  experiment  of  dividing  her  charms 
among  three  men — her  husband,  and  the  two  lovers. 
The  result  is  the  duel,  which  proves  what  has  been 
proven  so  often  before,  that  such  an  amorous  feat  is 
impossible.  She  was  foolish,  but  the  greater  fools 
they.  She  may,  now  that  she  is  likely  to  have  leisure, 
profit  by  looking  up  the  precepts  of  Monsieur 
Franklin,  her  illustrious  countryman." 

As  she  finished  reading,  the  paper  fell  from  her 
hands,  and  she  turned  in  consternation  to  meet  her 
husband's  anger.  He  was  gone !  She  rang  for  her 
maid,  who  assisted  her  to  her  room. 

Servants  were  sent  in  search  of  the  Signer,  and 


228  TANCliEDI. 

others  dispatched  to  summon  Signora  Adelaide.  The 
husband  could  not  be  found  ;  the  sister-in-law  hurried 
to  the  Boulevart  des  Italiens,  where  she  was  immedi- 
ately shown  into  the  presence  of  Madam  Tancredi. 

"  You  have  heard  !  I  see  by  your  face  you  have 
heard  !"  exclaimed  Madam  Alice,  hastening  forward 
to  meet  the  Signora. 

"  Alas  !  yes,  my  sister  I  have  heard  !" 

"  But  the  cruel  newspapers — the  heartless  account 
they  give — have  you  seen  them  ?  And  do  you  think 
me  the  guilty  thing  they  make  me  ?" 

"No,  sister;  no.  I  shall  believe  that  much  I 
know ;  that  much  and  nothing  more." 

"  Oh !  tell  me  what  you  do  believe — what  you 
have  seen  in  my  conduct  deserving  of  blame.  Tell 
me — help  me  to  conclude,  for  I  cannot  think  for  my- 
self. As  God  is  my  judge  I  never  meant  to  do 


"  Ah,  my  sister,  we  sometimes  do  wrong  when  we 
mean  it  not.  Your  wrong  is  that,  nothing  more,  noth- 
ing worse.  That  is  what  I  think  of  your  conduct." 

"  Thank  you  for  that !  Oh,  I  thank  you  for  that, 
my  kindest  and  best  of  sisters,"  cried  the  distressed 
woman,  putting  her  arms  around  her  sister's  neck. 

The  two  women  talked  the  matter  over  until  they 
came  to  understand,  trust  and  love  each  other,  as  they 
never  had  before.  The  American  was  contrite  and 


TANCKEDI.  329 

humble,  the  Italian  forbearing  and  tender.  Madam 
bogged  the  Signora  to  intercede  with  Signer  Tancredi 
on  her  behalf. 

"  Had  I  heeded  your  sisterly  admonitions,  my  best 
of  friends,  had  I  patterned  after  your  discreet  exam- 
ple, I  would  not  now  be  suffering  from  shame  and 
remorse.  I  must  set  about  repairing  my  errors  at 
once,  and  I  wish  to  begin  by  asking  my  husband  to 
forgive  and  restore  me  to  his  confidence." 

Taucredi  could  not  be  found.  It  was  two  days 
before  he  returned  to  his  house. 

On  leaving  his  wife  reading  the  account  of  the 
duel,  he  went  straightway  to  the  prefecture  de  police, 
where  he  learned  that  the  department  had  no  official 
knowledge  of  the  combat  or  the  whereabouts  of  the 
combatants.  He  next  visited  the  lodgings  of  the 
principals,  but  their  servants  knew  nothing,  or  affected 
to  know  nothing,  of  their  masters'  movements.  He 
made  a  trip  to  the  spot  where  the  duel  was  said  to 
have  taken  place.  From  a  keeper  of  the  Bois  he 
learned  that  a  person  supposed  to  be  one  of  the  duelists 
was  seen  on  the  morning  of  the  fight  hurriedly  cross- 
ing the  bridge  that  leads  to  the  Versailles  highway. 
He  followed  to  that  city  to  learn  that  the  fugitive  had 
fled  toward  Tours.  Arrived  there  he  lost  all  trace  of 
the  Baron,  for  the  description  suited  that  person  ;  when 
he  returned  to  Paris.  He  revisited  the  lodgings  of 


230  TANCREDI. 

Count  Bertrand,  wliere  lie  found  that  nobleman,  and 
to  whose  presence  lie  was  admitted. 

lie  learned  from  the  Count  the  full  particulars  of 
the  cause  which  led  to  the  encounter,  and,  of  course, 
how  Madam  Tancredi  became  implicated  in  the  scan- 
dal. 

Throughout  the  interview  the  Signor  acted  in  the 
most  dignified  and  honorable  manner.  It  is  true  he 
did  not,  he  could  not,  condone  the  scandal  by  extend- 
ing his  hand  in  fellowship  to  the  poor  Count  who 
craved  it,  but  lie  thanked  him  for  his  intentions, 
which  he  thought  were  possibly  honorable. 

"  You  should  have  remembered  that  I  am  the  only 
custodian  of  my  wife's  honor.  Yon  should  also  have 
foreseen  that  any  attempt  on  your  part  to  vindicate 
my  wife's  reputation  would  result  in  misunderstand- 
ing and  misrepresentation  by  the  public,  even  as  it  is 
misunderstood  and  misrepresented.  Your  act  places 
me  in  a  delicate  and  mortifying  position,  and  you 
must  see  and  agree  that  henceforth  our  hitherto 
friendly  relations  must  terminate." 

The  information  obtained  at  the  interview  with 
Count  Bertrand  modified  and  mollified  his  indignation 
toward  his  wife.  He  now  saw  that,  although  she  had 
been  indiscreet,  she  was  innocent  of  any  direct  com- 
plicity in  the  disgraceful  affair.  He  blamed  her  for 
encouraging  the  presence  of  such  a  debauchee  as  the 


TANCREDI.  231 

Baron  had  proved  himself  to  be,  but  lie  cleared  her  of 
any  flagrant  wrong-doing.  His  entrance  into  her 
presence  was,  therefore,  marked  by  the  most  praise- 
worthy tenderness  and  forbearance  on  his  part.  She 
clung  to  him  imploring  his  forgiveness,  and  manifest- 
ing more  hearty  consideration  for  him  than  ever 
before.  She  saw  and  appreciated  the  delicate  though 
spirited  indignation  that  prompted  him  to  terminate 
the  friendship  between  her  and  the  Count ;  while  he, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  re-assured  by  her  humble  peni- 
tence. 

The  storm  that  shook  the  domestic  sky,  lulled  into 
quietude,  and  vanishing  clouds  let  in  more  and  more 
beautiful  sunlight  than  ever  shone  on  them  before. 
They  began  to  entertain  for  each  other,  if  not  love, 
respect,  a  passion  more  reliable,  more  reasonable  and 
more  enduring. 

It  was  agreed,  for  reasons  that  are  apparent,  that 
they  should  leave  Paris  forthwith.  Tancredi  was 
joined  by  his  sister  in  favor  of  !Maples,  but  Madam, 
was  so  tired  of  society,  so  broken  by  the  scandal,  and 
so  homesick,  that  a  compromise  was  made  on  Phila- 
delphia. Inside  a  week,  Signor  Tancredi  and  wife 
were  on  their  way  to  America. 


TANCREDI. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

"  And  you,  my  friend !  how  shall  I  thank  you  ? 
What  shall  I  do  to  show  my  grateful  heart  ?" 

THESE  few  more  last  words  connected  with  the 
subject  of  the  duel,  may  seem  chronologically  out  of 
place ;  but  some  reparation  seems  due  the  gallant 
Count  Bertrand,  who  risked  his  life  to  vindicate  a 
lady's  good  name,  and  who,  after  receiving  a  wound 
in  her  cause,  was  summarily  excluded  from  the  society 
and  friendship  of  the  family  he  had  so  disinterestedly 
served,  and  whose  gratitude  he  deserved.  If  repara- 
tion is  to  be  made,  it  must  be  made  here. 

Besides,  the  historian  has  recently  come  into  pos- 
session of  additional  and  later  testimony  in  the  case, — 
testimony  which  is  sufficiently  important  to  open  up 
the  case,  repair  the  injustice  done  the  Count,  and  vin- 
dicate the  honor  of  the  family  of  Tancredi. 

The  two  very  brief  letters  referred  to  as  new  testi- 
mony, came  into  our  possession  lately,  through  the 
kindness  of  a  renowned  tenor  singer,  who  spent 
some  time  in  Paris,  where  he  became  acquainted  with 
and  warmly  attached  to  Count  Bertrand. 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  author  of  the  first  letter 


TANCREDL  238 

was  the  son  of  Madam  Tancredi.  It  will  also  be  seen 
that  he,  happily,  knew  absolutely  nothing  of  his 
mother's  reputation  as  a  coquette,  but  only  knew  that 
Count  Bertrand  had  once  performed  for  her  a  gallant 
deed,  in  that  he  attempted  to  punish  the  traducer  of 
her  character. 

And  that  was  all  he  should  have  known  of  that 
transaction.  Had  he,  unfortunately,  known  all,  it  is 
probable  that  his  filial  piety  would  have  suffered  a 
severe  strain,  and  it  is  almost  certain  that  shame  would 
have  prevented  him  from  doing  justice  to  the  brave 
Count. 

Oblivion,  after  all,  is  kind,  if  not  just.  It  does 
seem  sad  and  cruel  to  see  noble  deeds — the  heroism 
and  romance  of  the  past,  prostrated  and  broken  by  that 
insatiable  iconoclast,  Oblivion  !  But  there  is  in  it  all, 
a  beautiful  compensating  mercy  in  the  burial  of  the 
ugliness  and  wickedness  which  marred  the  symmetry 
of  the  lost  creation. 

Young  Castlerank  has  been  engaged  for  the  past 
three  years  in  sowing  wild  oats.  He  fled  from  home 
and  country  the  other  night  to  escape  an  appalling 
harvest. 

What  a  much  larger  crop  he  would  have  sown  had 
he  known  of  his  father's  youthful  labors  in  the  same 
field !  Pretty  girls  and  wild  oats  are  not  modern 
products,  nor  their  cultivation  modern  industries. 


234  TANCREDL 

Old  men  charge  young  men  with  being  the  wick- 
edest of  all  times.  The  accusation  is  a  libel  on  youth 
and  the  present  age.  Morals  are  older,  immorals 
fresher  ;  morality  lingers  with  the  aged,  and  is  the  last 
glimmering  spark  of  virtue  that  goes  out  with  the 
dying  heart,  while  immorality  runs  riot  in  young 
blood  and  gambols  with  the  lambs.  That  is  a  great 
difference,  and  why  they  are  so  easily  distinguished 
from  each  other. 

Oblivion  covers  np  the  dens  and  ravages  of  the  old 
foxes;  the  ancient  reynards  forget  what  cunning 
cubs  they  were  among  their  neighbors  pullets.  They 
were  right  in  giving  up  their  youthful  follies,  even 
in  memory,  but  wrong  in  expecting  the  young  to  give 
them  up.  If  blood  will  tell,  and  it  will,  then  fathers 
should  expect  their  boys  to  sow  wild  oats. 

But,  the  letters. 

Philadelphia,  Sept.  30, 18—. 
To  Count  BERTRAND  TEIDENSAT. 
My  Dear  old  Friend. 

I  hasten  to  write  you  a  note  on  the  heels  of 
my  letter  of  yesterday. 

I  meet  with  surprises  every  hour.  At  this  rate 
I  shall  be  compelled  to  write  you  every  day,  or  lose 
my  identity  altogether.  Sometimes,  even  now,  I 
pinch  myself  to  see  if  it  is  myself. 


TANCREDI.  235 

Learn  what  I  have  fresh  discovered  ! 

I  incidentally  mentioned  your  name  and  title  to 
Madam,  who  is  now  my  mother,  no  longer  ago  than 
last  night.  She  was  greatly  moved  when  I  informed 
her  that  you  and  I  are  as  bosom  friends. 

What,  think  you,  she  did  ? 

No  less  than  take  me  to  her  boudoir,  where,  after 
having  locked  the  door,  she  proceeded  to  narrate  the 
account  of  a  duel  which  was  fought  on  her  account, 
and  in  which  a  certain  gentleman  of  my  acquaintance 
was  severely  wounded. 

So,  mon  vieux.  you  had  your  wise  secret  from  me 
all  the  time  we  have  known  each  other  !  What  a  sly 
old  comrade  it  was  not  to  disclose  its  romance  to  me  ! 
But  you  see  how  cleverly  a  woman  has  exposed  you  ! 
And  I  bless  you  more  for  good  than  ever  !  Protector 
of  my  mother's  good  name,  I  thank  you  everything. 
Adieu, 

C.  TANCEEDI. 

PABIS,  Nov.  4th,  18—. 
C!ABL  TANCEEDI. 

Mon  cher  Garcon  : 

What  do  you  think  happened  ?  The  little  fille 
de  "boutique^  Fanchon,  came  tripping  into  my  room 
just  as  I  sat  down  to  enjoy  your  letters,  and  I  think  is 
now  my  enemy,  because  I  would  not  allow  her  to  read 


238  TANCREDI. 

them.  She  affects  to  believe  that  you  have  another 
sweetheart  in  America;  but  I  understood  her  ruse. 
We  compromised  by  allowing  her  to  furnish  the  papier 
a  lettre  for  my  reply.  Her  message  to  you  is  the  per- 
fume on  the  paper, — jessamine,  it  is  not,  and  exquisite  ? 

Say  nothing  of  thanks,  my  dear  boy,  for  what  you 
are  kind  enough  to  consider  a  deed  of  valor  on  my 
part.  You  know  very  little  about  it.  It  was  not  con- 
sidered valorous  at  the  time,  I  painfully  remember, 
now  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago ;  at  least  one  of 
the  persons  most  interested  did  not  applaud  my  action 
in  the  matter.  But  times  are  changed,  and  opinions 
also. 

I  proceed  to  tell  you  something  never  told  before  ; 
and  which  no  one  but  I  can  tell. 

Baron  Sebastian  von  Waldland  fled  to  Madrid,  I 
think  to  escape  the  vengeance  of  your  father,  the  Sig- 
nor.  Six  months  after  the  duel  I  heard  of  his  where- 
abouts and  followed  him  there,  determined  to  renew 
the  combat ;  for,  you  see,  it  was  an  accident  that  dis- 
abled me,  and  not  his  skill, — my  foot  rolled  on  a  loose 
stick. 

When  I  reached  Madrid  he  was  dead — stabbed  by 
a  stiletto  in  the  hands  of  an  outraged  husband.  I 
stood  on  his  grave. 

In  haste,  yours,  as  ever, 

B.  TRIDENSAT. 


TANCREDI.  237 


CHAPTER    XXIY. 

"  Thy  words  convince  me  ;  all  my  doubts  vanish." 

WHEN  Rosetta  Godardo  returned  to  her  fireside, 
after  having  seen  her  lover  off  on  his  voyage,  she  sat 
down  alone  and  meditated  over  her  new  environments. 
Joy  was  the  dominant  emotion  in  her  breast — joy  at 
having  been  rescued  from  the  toils  which  Tancredi 
had  woven  about  her.  But  a  short  time  since  her 
every  thought  was  how  to  win  him  back ;  now  her  joy 
was  at  her  escape  from  his  thralldom. 

And  yet,  there  was  a  lurking  disquiet  in  her  mind  ; 
a  disquiet  which  was  akin  to  dread  and  remorse.  She 
strove  to  banish  the  feeling,  but  it  asserted  itself  more 
and  more  strongly,  until  it  became  the  cruel  absorbing 
thought. 

This  disquiet  was  because  she  had  not  told  John 
Taplan  fully  and  candidly  all  there  was  to  tell  of  her 
history  before  she  consented  to  become  his  wife.  She 
had  presumed  on  his  clemency  in  advance  of  the  claim 
on  which  his  forgiveness  was  predicated.  Next  to  the 
doubtful  honesty  of  withholding  the  statement  due  him, 
and  which  he  must  know  sooner  or  later,  was  the  pain- 


238  TANCREDI 

ful  thought  that  explanations  and  statements  would 
not  now  come  with  the  same  spontaneous  grace,  nor 
be  received  by  him  with  the  same  respect,  as  they 
would  had  she  made  a  clean  breast  of  it  at  the  start. 

John  Taplan  was  her  accepted  lover  ;  and  what  a 
lover  !  How  delicate,  how  considerate  of  her  feelings, 
how  concerned  for  her  welfare!  And  what  a  trust  he 
had  confided  in  her!  "  You  are  innocent :  that  is  all  I 
have  the  right  to  know,  all  I  wish  to  know,"  were  his 
very  words.  Was  her  candor  equal  to  this  trust? 
Was  her  innocence  equal  to  his  confidence?  And  his 
considerate  kindness  in  providing  for  her  welfare 
during  his  absence  !  "  My  future  wife  must  look  to 
me  alone  for  support,"  he  had  said.  She  was  no 
longer  dependent  on  the  bounty  of  a  false  lover — the 
wages  of  shame  !  She  was  provided  for  by  the  purest 
and  noblest  of  men !  How  should  she,  how  could 
she  repay  him  for  his  generosity  ?  How,  indeed  ! 

By  making  him  a  true,  devoted  wife  ;  by  helping 
him.  Helping  him  !  How  could  she  help  him,  as  she 
understood  help  !  Her  mother  had  helped  her  father 
by  spinning  while  he  was  absent  on  the  bay  of  Naples. 
She  could  not  spin,  but  she  could  sing. 

Happy  thought  1  She  would  return  to  the  stage  ! 
While  John  was  looking  out  on  the  dark  ocean  for  a 
pathway  for  his  ship,  she  would  sing  into  fame  and 


TANCREDI.  239 

fortune,  all  for  liini.  He  should  leave  the  wild  and 
perilous  sea,  and  stay  with  her  forever. 

She  fell  asleep  in  her  chair  and  dreamed  that  she 
stood  before  the  footlights  and  received  the  plaudits 
of  a  house  packed  with  people  enraptured  at  her  sing- 
ing. Flowers  covered  the  stage  and  rolled  at  her  feet. 
She  looked  for  John  Taplan  in  the  vast  audience, 
when  she  was  startled  by  Tancredi,  who  came  on  the 
stage  and  placed  a  glittering  necklace  of  diamonds 
around  her  throat.  She  shrieked  at  his  touch,  and 
awoke  to  find  that  the  mischievous  Berta  had  stolen 
into  the  room  and  touched  her  throat  with  a  ball  of 
the  first  snow  of  the  young  winter. 

"  Mio  Dio  !  How  you  frighten  one !  naughty 
Berta !  It  was  you,  then,  who  spoiled  my  beautiful 
drearn  !" 

"  Of  what  wert  thou  dreaming,  pretty  one?" 

"  Of  the  stage,  and  singing  thereon.  O  Berta,  the 
crowds  of  people  that  clapped  their  hands  and  filled 
the  stage  with  flowers !  It  was  at  my  singing." 

"Yes,  I  am  sure  of  that!  When  sang'st  thou  that 
thou  wert  not  smothered  with  flowers  and  applause  ?" 

"Never,  indeed,  kind  Berta  !  Why,  oh,  why  did 
I  ever  quit  the  glorious  stage  ?" 

"  Better  ask  thyself,  why  not  return  to  the  stage. 
Thou  sing'st  better  than  ever  before ;  triumph  awaits 
thee  if  thou  wilt  return  to  thy  profession." 


240  TANCREDI. 

"  Believ'st  tliou  so,  sweet  Berta  ?  I  am  almost 
persuaded  thou  art  right,  and  that  I  should  go  back 
where  I  ever  triumphed.  But  I  have  no  one  to  aid 
me  in  this  cold  country." 

"  Send  for  Michele  ;  he  will  fly  to  thy  aid." 

"  God's  curses  on  you  for  saying  that !"  exclaimed 
Kosetta,  in  a  tumultuous  burst  of  fury,  as  she  sprang 
from  her  seat  and  confronted  the  frightened  maid. 

"  The  Madonna  preserve  me  !  What  have  I  done 
that  thou  should'st  speak  so  fiercely,  and  look  so 
terrible  ?" 

"  Done !  I'll  tell  you  what  you  have  done.  You 
have  roused  up  a  fiend.  If  I  thought  that  you  are 
scheming  to  re-instate  your  master  in  the  unholy 
alliance  which  once  disgraced  me,  I  would  take  this 
dagger  and  hew  your  false  heart  into  pieces  so  small 
that  Eternal  Wrath  would  not  find  it  when  he  came 
to  reckon  with  your  treacherous  soul !" 

Berta  sank  on  a  seat,  thoroughly  cowed  and 
frightened. 

"  Send  for  Michele  !  Let  me  speak  it  once  for  all, 
and  heed  you  well  what  I  now  say,  that,  rather  than 
accept  favor  from  Tancredi,  I  would  breathe  in  the 
foul  vapors  to  destroy  speech,  attaint  my  blood  with 
leprosy  to  blot  out  beauty,  and  work  my  fingers  down 
to  the  bone  earning  my  daily  bread.  I  would  creep 
into  a  reeking  charnel  house  and  make  famine  food 


TANCREDI.  241 

of  carrion  corpse  rather  than  accept  one  penny  of  his 
prostituted  bounty  !" 

She  paused  in  her  rage,  while  she  caught  the 
terrified  Berta  firmly  by  the  shoulder,  as  if  she  would 
drag  her  from  her  seat. 

"  And  if  ever  I  descend  to  pander  to  his  baseness 
again,  ma}r  the  Great  God,  in  his  deep  wrath,  drive  me 
forth  a  maniac  wanderer  over  the  earth,  to  die  at  last 
among  strangers  and  fill  an  unknown  pauper's  grave !" 

Berta  put  her  hands  to  her  ears  and  shrieked  in 
terror,  while  the  Godardo,  exhausted  by  the  violence 
of  her  raving,  fell  prostrate  on  the  floor.  Lying  there, 
panting  and  writhing  for  a  few  awful  moments,  she  at 
length  reached  out  her  hands  toward  the  horror  stricken 
Berta,  who  tremblingly  seized  them  and  raised  the 
poor  girl  from  the  floor. 

"  The  Great  Father  have  mercy  on  us  and  pardon 
our  sins !  But.  what  has  come  over  thee,  my  poor 
child  ?" 

"  Hush,  Berta !"  she  said  in  a  hoarse  whisper, 
while  tears  filled  her  eyes,  and  she  sobbed  aloud. 
"  Why  wilt  thou  persist  in  talking  of  that  wicked 
man  !  Thou  know'st  that  it  drives  me  mad,  mad, 
mad !  Let  us  banish  him  from  our  thoughts,  for 
ever." 

Kosetta  turned  to  the  window  and  looked  out  on 
the  night.  The  ground  was  covered  with  snow,  or  as 


243  TANCREDI. 

it  seemed  to  her,  with  a  mantle  of  peace  and  purity. 
She  thought  of  the  young  sailor,  watching  far  out  at 
sea— the  cold  sea,  that  suffered  no  mantle  of  snow  to 
cover  its  restless  and  unpityiug  bosom.  God's  emblem 
of  peace  and  purity  was  falling  all  around  John  Tap- 
Ian,  but  the  wrathful  winds  swept  it  into  the  absorbing 
sea. 

John  Taplan's  distraction  all  banished  when  he 
landed  at  the  pier  and  met  Kosetta  with  her  hearty 
welcome.  The  impetuous  woman  at  once  introduced 
the  subject  uppermost  in  her  thoughts,  and  the  first 
thing  done  when  they  reached  the  cottage,  was  to  tell 
John  the  full  and  true  story  of  her  life.  She  told  the 
whole  of  it  without  evasion,  prevarication  or  reserva- 
tion ; — told  it  so  thoroughly  and  plainly  that  her  lover 
understood  it  better  than  she  did  herself,  or,  which 
more  clearly  expresses  the  situation,  saw  better  than 
she  what  part  of  her  life  to  condemn,  how  much  to 
regret,  and  how  far  pity  and  charity  might  excuse  or 
pardon  her  in  it  all.  To  his  mental  vision  she  was 
more  sinned  against  than  sinning. 

Perhaps  he  saw  aright.  It  is  well  to  keep  in  mind 
how  his  love  for  her  may  have  blinded  him  to  her 
frailties ;  but  who  has  the  heart  to  condemn  his  clem- 
ency— condemn  him  for  taking  the  side  on  which 
Mercy  stands  ? 

Society  is  not  prepared  to  acquit  John  Taplan  of 


TANCREDI.  243 

blame  for  espousing  a  fallen  woman  ;  it  certainly  is  not 
ready  to  applaud  his  action.  Prudery,  if  it  says  noth- 
ing more  bitter,  will  say  that  he  was  a  fool. 

Why  a  fool? 
***** 

Bah !  Who  can  tolerate  such  nauseating  inconsis- 
tency ? 

Where  the  inconsistency  ? 

The  inconsistency  of  giving  welcome  hands  to  fast 
men  and  tramping  fast  women  back  into  the  mire. 

A  chaste,  respectable  woman  can  marry  without 
question  or  comment  a  Don  Juan  whose  intrigues  are 
notorious.  Keverse  the  conditions,  and  what  a  howl 
goes  up  from  Christian  throats ! 

If  the  popular  rule  now  applied  to  females  were 
applied  to  males  with  the  same  unrelenting  and  mer- 
ciless stringency,  the  Malthus  theory  would  no  longer 
be  a  stumbling  block  to  political  economists. 

The  most  prudent  marriage  between  two  persons 
of  approved  chastity  may  turn  out  calamitous.  Fidel- 
ity after  marriage  is  of  more  importance  than  chastity 
before  marriage,  important  as  is  the  latter.  And  now, 
if  the  marriage  contract  meditated  between  Taplan 
and  the  Godardo  turns  out  bad,  this  history  will  see 
to  it  that  the  blame  shall  not  be  laid  on  the  former 
misfortune  of  the  woman. 

Eosetta  made  one  serious  blunder  at  this  time — she 


244  TANCREDI. 

concealed  from  her  lover  her  determination  to  return 
to  the  operatic  stage.  Her  motive  for  this  secresy 
was  emotional,  and  therefore  pardonable  in  a  woman. 
Her  motive  was  to  give  him  an  agreeable  surprise. 
Her  heart  leaped  with  joy  in  anticipation  of  her  tri- 
umph and  his  astonishment.  Some  time  on  his  return 
from  his  cruise,  he  would  find  her  famous,  with  the 
New  World  at  her  feet.  He  would  hear  her  name 
sounded  on  praising  lips,  he  would  see  her  name  in 
great  flaming  red  posters,  he  would  read  flattering 
accounts  of  her  in  the  newspapers.  And  the  wealth 
she  would  bring !  She  would  empty  the  gold,  the 
wages  of  her  triumph,  into  his  lap,  and  say,  it  is 
thine,  as  I  am  thine ! 

The  little  woman  chuckled  with  delight  at  the 
prospective  glory  which  awaited  her  scheme,  the 
sweetest  part  of  which  would  be  the  sly  way  she 
would  bring  it  about,  and  the  sudden  glare  with  which 
it  would  burst  on  her  lover.  It  would  dazzle  him ! 

She  never  once  thought  that  he  might  aid  her,  or, 
possibly  object  to  her  going  on  the  stage.  John  was 
a  sailor,  with  meagre  knowledge  of  music  or  the  the- 
atrical profession.  Besides  he  had  no  time  away  from 
his  ship.  Why  bother  him  with  a  scheme  he  could 
not  aid? 

As  soon  as  he  was  gone  on  his  voyage  she  set  about 
the  prosecution  of  her  enterprise.  She  sought  an 


TANCREDI.  245 

interview  with  the  maestro  who  had  brought  her  to 
America.  He  was  absent  on  a  tour  with  his  opera 
troupe,  but  was  expected  to  return  to  New  York  at 
a  fixed  date. 

This  was  the  first  professional  disappointment  of 
her  life ;  the  sanguine  woman  had  not  counted  on 
impediment  or  delay.  In  her  professional  career  she 
had  never  known  what  effort  was  in  securing  an 
engagement ;  the  proposals  had  ever  come  unsolicited, 
and  the  trouble  had  been  to  get  her  on  the  stage.  The 
difficulty  now  was  to  get  the  stage  for  the  willing 
actress.  Besides  she  had  always  depended  on  Tancrcdi 
to  manage  her  theatrical  business,  who  had  always 
attended  to  all  details  without  inconvenience  or  annoy- 
ance to  her. 

She  sighed  as  she  felt  how  lonely  and  helpless  she 
was. 

Alas,  for  that  sigh,  and  alas  for  its  cause.  Mrs. 
Browning  says  : 

**.-.  This  passionate  sigh  .  . ,  . 
May  reach  and  stir  the  plumes 
Of  God's  calm  angel  standing  in  the  sun." 

But  her  sigh  was  not  for  Tancredi  nor  his  patron- 
age. But  it  was  a  sigh  for  what  she  missed  through 
him.  It  was  the  sigh  of  danger. 

Taplan  had  come  again  and  gone  before  she  heard 


246  TANCREDI. 

from  the  maestro.  He  made  an  appointment  which 
she  kept. 

' '  I  wish  to  return  to  the  stage,  and  came  to  yon 
for  advice  and  assistance." 

"  Do  you  forget  that  you  once  did  me  the  injustice 
of  disappointing  me,  to  my  great  loss  ?  I  am  not  will- 
ing to  repeat  that  experience." 

"  But  1  was  ill ;  I  lost  my  voice,  my  health,  my 
beauty.  Now  they  are  all  restored,  and  I  am  ready  to 
make  amends  to  you  for  the  past." 

"It  is  impossible.  Besides  the  season  is  too  far 
advanced  to  organize  a  new  combination.  I  tell  you 
it  is  impossible !" 

"You  dishearten  me.  What  am  I  to  do?  Surely 
the  public  will  be  glad  to  hear  me  sing,  even  in  con- 
certed pieces." 

"  The  public  knows  nothing  of  you.  You  have  no 
reputation  in  this  country,  and  you  would  not  draw 
anything  like  paying  houses.  You  desire  to  return  to 
the  stage,  and  on  that  point  you  seek  my  advice?" 

"That  is  my  desire." 

"  Well,  heed  this  advice:  Don't  sell  your  talents 
cheaply,  and  make  no  effort  to  build  a  reputation  in 
concerts.  If  you  had  a  reputation,  you  could  afford  to 
sing  concerted  pieces  ;  but  no  singer  ever  made  a  great 
reputation  except  in  opera.  Prepare  yourself  for  a 
grand  debut,  such  as  was  once  prepared  for  you  in  this 


TANCREDI.  247 

city.  Ah,  Signora,  you  missed  the  opportunity  of 
your  life  when  you  threw  up  that  engagement.  Pre- 
pare yourself  for  appearance  in  grand  opera,  where,  it' 
you  make  a  hit,  it  will  be  a  grand  success.  If  you  would 
soar  high — and  I  have  all  confidence  in  your  ability — 
you  must  take  wing  from  the  mountain  top,  and  not 
from  the  molehill.  Opera  is  the  mountain,  concert 
the  molehill." 

"When  can  I  nppear  in  opera?" 
"  Not  before  next  season." 
"  And  will  you  engage  me  for  next  season  ?" 
"  That  depends.     I  shall  be  glad  to  do  so,  provided 
you  furnish  me  with  acceptable  security  for  the  faith- 
ful performance  of  your  engagement.     1  cannot  afford 
to  make  a  contract  with  you  on  other  terms." 

11  But  I  have  no  friend  in  this  country  who  will 
become  my  securit}'." 

"  Then  our  interview  is  at  an  end.  I  wish  you  a 
good  day." 

Kosetta  left  the  presence  of  the  pompous  musical 
autocrat  with  such  a  chill  at  her  heart  as  she  never 
had  before.  The  revulsion  against  her  profession  was 
so  strong  that  she  almost  hated  her  art — that  art 
which  she  had  always  held  higher  than  money, 
more  sacred  than  barter.  She  learned  that  she  and 
her  gifts  were  only  valuable  to  the  maestro  as  the 
representatives  of  so  much  money.  She  possessed  an 


248  TANCREDI. 

ocean  of  melody  en  resorvoir,  ready  to  be  poured  out 
in  a  deluge  of  song,  but  she  had  no  means  to  regrlate 
the  flow  to  suit  the  demands  of  the  market.  Her 
wealth,  all  told,  was  a  thousand  dollars,  a  few  jewels, 
and  an  excellent  wardrobe,  the  earnings  of  three  years 
work  on  the  operatic  stage  in  Europe. 

Who  could  she  get  to  stand  sponsor  for  her  faith- 
ful performance  of  the  contract  ?  John  Taplan  ?  He 
was  her  only  friend,  and  first  in  her  thoughts.  Should 
she  ask  him  2  If  eo  she  must  reveal  her  cherished 
scheme  of  secrecy,  and  by  that  destroy  its'  romance. 
Besides,  was  he  rich  enough  to  go  on  her  bond  ?  She 
had  neglected  to  ask  the  amount  of  bail  required.  On 
inquiry  she  found  that  it  would  be  twenty  thousand 
dollars. 

The  amount  appalled  her. 

When  John  came  home  she  learned  by  indirect 
inquiries  that  the  brick  house  and  grounds  would 
probably  sell  for  five  thousand  dollars. 

Her  heart  beat  low  at  the  low  figures — one-fourth 
the  sum  required.  John  Taplan,  as  bondsman,  was  out 
of  the  question,  and  it  was  therefore  unnecessary  to 
tell  him  of  her  scheme.  Foolish  woman  ! 

This  was  in  the  month  of  February.  What  should 
be  her  next  move  2 

Kosetta  had  more  business  pluck  in  her  than  she 
dreamed  of. 


TAKCREDI.  249 

In  her  present  drifting  life,  some  aim  or  aspiration 
was  absolutely  necessary  to  prevent  her  from  falling 
into  utter  despondency.  Action,  busy,  thrilling, 
absorbing  action,  was  as  indispensable  to  her  tempera- 
ment as  phosphorus  to  her  brain,  fibrin  to  her  muscles, 
or  oxygen  to  her  blood.  Her  passion  for  the  stage 
was  constitutional  and  irrepressible,  and  it  became  an 
all  absorbing  necessity,  a  necessity  that  would  brook 
no  hindrance,  or  stop  at  any  obstacle. 

She  was  honest  in  her  desire  to  return  to  the  stage. 

She  was  justifiable  in  having  honest  desire,  woman 
though  she  was. 

But  she  was  a  woman. 

She  had  the  same  right  as  a  man  to  bo  ambitious. 
But  she  was  a  woman.  If  she  were  a  man  would  she 
have  fared  better  ? 

A  man,  possessing  a  voice  equal  in  power,  compass, 
sweetness  and  culture  to  that  of  Rosetta  Godtirdo 
would  have  encountered  no  difficulty  in  finding  a  mar- 
ket for  his  rare  gifts,  and  the  price  commanded  by  him 
would  rate  in  accordance  with  the  degree  of  his  merit. 

In  the  case  of  a  woman  it  is  different.  When  she 
applies  for  a  public  place  her  personal  charms  are  con- 
sidered and  included  in  the  estimate  placed  on  her 
worth  ;  and  her  art,  whatever  that  art  may  be,  will 
bring  more  or  less  as  her  personal  attractions  are  great 
or  small.  Art  has  a  commercial  as  well  as  a  literal 
11* 


250  TANCREDI. 

meaning,  and  there  is  male  art  and  female  art.  Male 
art  has  its  value  based  on  art  alone  ;  female  art  has  its 
value  based  on  art  and  beauty,  and  like  the  Circassian 
maiden,  woman's  price  rises  or  falls  with  beauty  of 
person. 

Expose  thy  youth  and  thy  beauty  for  sale  with  thy 
art,  maid  of  song ;  perchance  some  Turk  may  bid  high 
for  the  pair. 

She  did  not  think  of  this  dernier  resort  then,  but 
the  time  came,  when,  despondent  with  effort  and  fail- 
ure, she  was  driven  to  surrender  the  collateral  of 
female  art  to  secure  a  price  for  her  gifts. 

She  asked  for  and  obtained  another  interview  with 
the  operatic  manager.  He  was  as  exacting  as  ever. 

"  If  you  furnish  me  with  security  for  the  faithful 
performance  of  your  engagement,  you  can  come  to  me 
and  I  will  hire  you.  If  I  find  a  patron  willing  to 
endorse  you,  I  will  send  for  you.  In  the  meantime, 
it  is  useless  for  you  to  bother  me.  This  is  my  ultima- 
tum." 

She  went  home  and  formed  a  resolution.  She 
would  appear  in  public  in  spite  of  the  repulses  of  the 
flint-hearted  maestro.  She  resolved  to  appear  in  con- 
cert in  some  music  hall.  She  would  show  the  mer- 
cenary tyrant  that  she  could  secure  recognition  with- 
out paying  tribute  to  him. 

She  rented  the  hall,  had  posters  put  up  on  walls  to 


TANCREDI.  251 

be  covered  by  more  glaring  ones,  and  had  the  perform- 
ance billed.  She  was  compelled  to  pay  for  the  hall, 
printing,  for  everything,  in  advance.  On  the  opening 
night  about  a  dozen  indifferent-looking  people  strag- 
gled in,  one  at  a  time,  wearing  a  scared  look,  as  though 
they  had  lost  their  way  and  had  come  to  the  wrong 
place  to  find  it.  There  were  no  "  dead  heads,"  but 
plenty  of  space  for  them — she  had  neglected  to  com- 
pliment the  press.  The  prospect  was  so  slim  that  the 
money  was  refunded,  when  the  miserable-looking 
stragglers  went  elsewhere  to  find  their  lost  way. 

Rosetta  went  home  and  flung  herself  on  the  floor, 
where  she  cried  like  a  child  that  does  not  know  why 
it  cries,  only  that  it  should  cry  on  general  principles, 
leaving  others  to  find  out  the  exact  cause  of  its  dis- 
tress. 

Berta  was  the  philosopher  on  the  occasion. 

"  Don't  cry,  my  poor  Rosa !  don't  cry !  Why 
should'st  thou  cry  ?  Sure  the  public  lost  more  than 
we.  See  what  we  have  learned  !  We  have  learned 
that  there  is  art  and  the  art.  Thou  hast  art,  the 
maestro  has  the  art.  Separate,  they  are  valueless ; 
together,  tbey  are  priceless.  Without  thy  art  he  is 
nobody,  without  his  art  thou  art  less  than  nobody." 

"  Yes,  Berta,  about  five  hundred  dollars  less  than 
nobody,  for  that  is  what  the  lesson  cost  us." 

"  Fuh  J      What  is  five  hundred  dollars  to  thee,  I 


252  TAKCREDI. 

ask  ?  Why,  with  the  maestro,  them  shalt  make  the 
loss  up  in  -one  night !  Despair  no  more  ;  I  shall  speak 
to  the  maestro." 

"  What,  thou  !  Thou  speak  with  him  ?  Foolish 
Borta,  how  you  talk !  He  will  not  so  much  as  look  at 
thee,  much  less  talk  with  thee.  Besides,  what  can'st 
thou  offer  which  I  have  not  already  offered  ?" 

"  Leave  Berta  alone  for  that !  I  am  older  than 
thou." 

It  was  now  late  in  March,  and  John  Taplan  was  at 
home  once  more.  The  day  on  which  he  landed  was 
•wet  and  dismal.  A  misty  rain  fell  all  day  long  and 
lillecl  the  streets  with  slush.  The  buildings  looked 
like  glazed  prisons.  A  dense  fog  hung  over  the  city, 
and  reached  out  on  the  bay  like  a  spectre  shroud, 
through  which  the  packet  loomed  like  a  phantom-ship 
bursting  from  a  phantom  world.  Rosetta  was  at  the 
pier  in  a  close  carriage  waiting  for  her  lover,  and 
watching  the  people  disembark.  There  comes  Tap- 
lan ;  but  who  is  it  that  glides  in  his  wake  and  crosses 
over  to  the  baggage-room  ? 

"  Great  God  !  It  is  the  traitor  !"  she  gasped,  as 
she  crouched  among  the  cushions. 

John  sprang  inside  and  held  her  in  his  arms,  as 
they  were  rapidly  driven  away. 

"  Take  me  away  !    Oh,  hasten  !     Tell  the  driver  to 


TANCREDI.  253 

fly !"  she  cried,  clinging  to  him  as  if  to  escape  some 
impending  evil. 

"  You  saw — him,  Eosa  ?"  was  all  he  said  ;  but 
there  was  consolation  in  his  strong  voice,  there  was 
assurance  in  his  encircling  arm. 

The  historian  often,  and  doubtless  the  novelist  also, 
lays  down  the  pen  in  despair  when  he  encounters 
scenes  too  beautiful  for  words,  too  pathetic  for  speech. 
At  such  times  inspiration  soars  beyond  language  and 
beats  its  wings  in  impotent  desperation.  Trooping 
fancies  swarm  in  the  brain,  dressed  in  forms  of  match- 
less beauty,  but  the  very  grandeur  of  conception  para- 
lyzes volition,  and  the  pen  falls  in  despair. 

This  pen  has  been  idle  for  days ;  it  is  now  taken 
up  to  write  its  own  impotence,  and  to  beg  of  the 
reader  to  imagine  for  himself  the  beauty,  the  tender- 
ness and  the  sadness  which  marked  the  companionship 
of  those  two  lovers  during  those  four  days  in  March. 

Do  you  remember  the  last  time  you  sat  with  your 
friend?  Neither  of  you  dreamed  that  the  parting  was 
to  be  final,  and  yet  it  was. 

The  weather  continued  stormy  and  capricious ;  it 
froze  and  thawed,  rained  and  sleeted,  shone  and  shad- 
owed, by  treacherous  turns,  compelling  those  who  had 
homes  and  loved  them,  to  stay  there. 

John  Taplan  remained  in  the  cottage  all  day  long 
during  his  stay  on  shore.  At  first,  Rosetta  was 


254  TANCKEDI. 

reserved  and  pensive,  which  aroused  the  anxiety  of 
Taplan,  and  prompted  him  to  affect  a  joviality  unu- 
sual with  him,  in  order  that  he  might  dispel  her  sad- 
ness and  bring  back  her  smiles. 

JRosetta  appreciated  his  kind  strategy,  and  shook 
off  the  shadows,  to  his  intense  gratification.  The 
bitterness  of  her  late  fiasco  gradually  passed  from  her 
mind,  and  hope  once  again  fired  her  breast  with  prom- 
ise. When  the  hour  of  parting  came  not  a  shadow  lay 
between  them. 

O  Maiden  of  Song !  Would  thou  had'st  clung  to 
thy  sailor  lover,  even  as  the  Christian  clings  to  the 
cross ! 

O  sailor  on  the  sea!  Better  thou  had'st  gone 
down  with  thy  gallant  bark,  than  come  back  to  a  port 
of  despair. 


TANCREDI.  255, 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

"  That  virgin  in  CEchalia,  yoked  to  no  bridal  bed,  till  then 
unwedded,  and  who  knew  no  husband,  having  taken  from  her 
home  a  wanderer  impelled  by  the  oar,  her,  like  some  Bachenal 
of  Pluto,  with  blood,  with  smoke,  and  murderous  hymenials  did 
Venus  give  nuptials."— EURIPIDES. 

TANCKEDI  and  wife  took  up  their  residence  in  Phila- 
delphia, where  they  settled  down  to  pro«y  domestic 
life.  The  shock  which  Madam  Alice  suffered  from 
the  Paris  scandal,  was  likely  to  influence  her  whole 
future  life.  She  razed  the  altar,  demolished  the  lamp, 
and  tried  to  forget  that  she  had  been  a  coquette.  She 
shrank  from  society,  refused  to  take  her  familiar 
place  among  her  friends,  and  declined  all  invitations 
except  a  few  of  a  very  exclusive  character.  She  re- 
mained at  home  intensely  occupied  in  learning  that 
noblest  of  all  arts,  the  art  of  housekeeping.  The  grat- 
ified husband  was  rejoiced  to  see  his  honeymoon  risen 
at  last.  Madam  was  certainly  greatly  altered  in  de- 
meanor toward  him,  while  he  gave  promise  of  becom- 
ing an  exemplary  husband. 

But  where  the  domestic  Eden  without  a  trailing 
serpent  winding  its  slimy  folds  among  the  sequestered 
bowers  ? 


256  TANCREDI. 

The  serpent  that  crept  into  the  Tancredi  bower 
was  in  the  guise  of  a  letter  from  Berta  to  her  master. 
Imitating  its  primogenitor  it  appealed  to  the  subtlest 
vanities  of  the  human  heart. 

Here  is  the  abstract  poison  : 

"You  should  see  our  Kosetta!  How  handsome! 
More  beautiful  than  ever  before.  And  her  singing  I 
You  should  hear  her  sing !  It  thrills  one !  And  she 
has  got  back  all  her  old  ambition  for  the  stage.  I 
knew  her  love  for  the  sailor  would  not  last;  it  was  not 
exciting  enough,  and  she  turns  from  him  to  scenes  of 
her  former  triumph  as  naturally  as  the  duck  to  water. 
But  she  has  no  one  to  help  her." 

Berta  here  gave  a  graphic  account  of  Eosetta's 
struggles  and  failures  to  get  back  into  her  profession. 

"  It  is  a  pity  to  let  her  pine  away  with  disappoint- 
ment, just  from  the  lack  of  a  friend.  Why  may  not 
my  good,  kind  master,  help  her  as  he  once  helped 
her?" 

Apparently  this  letter  had  feeble  effect  on  Tan- 
credi. He  flung  it  aside. 

He  turned  to  his  own  life  and  felt  that  it  ought 
to  content  him. 

But  will  it  as  he  would,  his  old  life  of  gay  adven- 
ture involuntarily  and  persistently  thrust  itself  into 


TANCREDI.  257 

his  thoughts,  and  he  caught  himself  revelling  in  the 
memories  of  his  old  free  days — their  sparkle  and 
pleasant  experiences.  He  reread  the  letter. 

No,  it  must  not,  should  not  be.  He  loved  his 
wife,  and  felt  secure  of  her  attachment  to  him  ;  what 
more  could  be  added  to  his  happiness?  An  indis- 
cretion might  ruin  him.  If  his  wife  were  to  discover 
any  attempt  at  intriguing  on  his  part,  especially  with 
the  cantatrice,  she  would  make  short  work  of  his 
present  domestic  tranquility.  No  ;  the  Godardo  must 
henceforth  be  a  stranger  to  him.  She  had  joined  her 
destiny  with  that  of  the  sailor  ;  she  was  welcome,  and 
had  his  best  wishes  for  a  bright  career. 

But  he  beguiled  himself  into  believing  that  the 
subject  had  an  aesthetic  side  which  was  proper  and 
prudent  for  him  to  consider. 

The  woman,  Rosetta  Godardo,  was  an  artist,  en- 
dowed with  talents  almost  if  not  quite  reaching  to  the 
height  of  genius,  and  her  musical  culture  was  of  a 
very  high  order  of  merit.  If  opportunity  were 
afforded  her  ehe  bid  fair  to  rival  the  most  renowned 
singers  that  ever  thrilled  the  world.  "Was  it  right, 
viewed  from  its  artistic  side,  that  she  should  be  kept 
in  obscurity  from  the  beggarly  want  of  a  patron  ?  Was 
it  right  to  rob  the  world  of  her  great  talents  ? 

Yiewing  the  subject  in  this  light,  he  saw  strong 
reasons  in  favor,  and  none  against  lending  her  assist- 


258  TANCREDI. 

ance.  As  a  patron  of  music,  and  especially  operatic 
music,  ho  granted  that  he  was  particularly  fitted  to 
render  her  aid,  and  that,  too,  without  the  risk  of  being 
charged  with  improper  motives.  Even  if  the  woman 
were  an  entire  stranger  to  him,  still  he  felt  that  ifc 
would  be  right  and  proper  to  help  her,  because  help- 
ing her  would  be  giving  legitimate  aid  to  musical 
culture  in  America. 

These  were  reasons  of  a  general  character ;  but 
there  were  special  reasons  why  he,  before  any  one  else, 
should  assist  her.  She  had  been  his  protege,  encour- 
aged and  assisted  by  him  in  studying  and  adopting  that 
profession  for  which  she  was  so  eminently  fitted.  He 
had  shared  in  her  triumphs  in  Europe,  and,  on  his 
promise  of  protection,  she  had  come  to  America  to 
fulfill  a  flattering  engagement  as  prima  donna  of  an 
opera  company.  He  acknowledged  that  he  had  not 
kept  faith  with  her,  but,  on  the  contrary,  had  pre- 
vented her  from  fulfilling  her  engagement,  and  finally 
had  deserted  her.  She  was  a  penniless  orphan,  bereft 
of  home,  country,  profession  and  honor,  all  through 
his  bad  faith. 

Did  he  owe  her  restitution  ? 

He  persuaded  himself  that  he  did. 

He  took  the  letter  up  and  read  it  the  third  time. 

He  could  assist  her  without  resuming  his  former 
familiarity  with  her.  He  was  now  married,  she  would 


TANCREDI.  259 

be  in  May,  and  temptation  and  opportunity  would  be 
removed.  His  patronage  could  be  managed  so  dis- 
creetly that  his  wife  would  not  hear  of  it  or  be  dxs- 
satisfied  if  she  did.  Even  Rosetta  Godardo  need  not 
know  who  was  her  benefactor.  His  patronage  could 
be  and  would  be  secret,  gesthetic,  paternal,  Platonic. 

He  threw  the  letter  on  the  fire  and  its  flames 
wreathed  fantastic  forms  of  burning  ships. 

Tancredi  went  to  New  York. 

He  held  a  conference  with  his  friend,  the  maestro, 
which  resulted  in  a  message  being  sent  to  the  cantatrice 
summoning  her  to  the  office  of  the  musical  director. 
She  was  offered  the  position  as  prima  donna  of  an 
opera  troupe  which  was  being  organized  for  the 
ensuing  season.  Tancredi  kept  out  of  the  way. 

The  contract  stipulated  that  she  was  not  to  marry 
for  one  year.  She  demurred  at  this  provision  and  got 
three  days  to  consider.  During  those  three  days 
ambition  was  ever  present,  urging  its  claims,  while  her 
lover  was  absent,  and  ambition  won.  She  signed  the 
articles  of  agreement. 

She  signed  the  contract  with  no  wish  or  intent  to 
wrong  John  Taplan.  It  never  crossed  her  mind  that 
he  might  possibly  object,  nor  had  she  the  slightest 
wish  to  cancel  her  marriage  engagement.  She  only 
saw  in  the  offer  of  the  maestro  the  golden  opportunity 
to  regain  a  foothold  in  her  loved  profession,  an  offer 


260  TANCREDI. 

coupled,  it  was  true,  with  a  disagreeable  proviso,  and 
which  she  accepted  under  protest  on  John's  account. 
She  doubted  not  that  her  lover  would  gracefully  sub- 
mit to  the  years  delay,  when  he  came  to  know  the  issue 
at  stake.  True,  she  would  have  preferred  to  consult 
with  him  about  the  postponement  of  their  marriage  ; 
but  that  would  have  spoiled  her  plans  ;  besides  he  was 
absent.  She  decided  without  his  advice  or  consent, 
feeling  confident  that  all  would  be  well. 

Her  gratification  at  the  glorious  prospect  before 
her  was  so  absorbing  that  she  had  never  thought  of 
the  possible  cause  why  the  manager  had  so  suddenly 
relented  from  his  former  hard  terms.  She  now  began 
to  think,  and  among  other  things  she  thought  of  that. 
During  her  late  efforts  before  him  he  had  said  that  if 
he  found  a  friend  willing  to  go  her  bail,  he  would  send 
for  her.  He  had  sent  for  her,  had  engaged  her,  and, 
inferentially,  had  found  the  willing  patron.  How  else 
account  for  her  engagement  on  such  liberal  terms? 
Her  curiosity  was  aroused  to  learn  more  of  the  inside 
workings  of  the  office  of  the  musical  director.  Was 
it  likely  that  some  lover  of  art,  familiar  with  her  gifts 
and  European  fame,  had  volunteered  to  come  forward 
as  her  patron  ?  Some  person  who  acted  from  genuine 
regard  for  opera  in  America  ?  If  such  a  person  existed, 
she  longed  to  know  him  and  demonstrate  to  him  her 
profound  gratitude. 


TANCREDI.  261 

At  her  next  meeting  with  the  maestro  she  inquired 
concerning  the  cause  which  led  to  her  good  fortune. 

"  Because  I  know  that  you  can  sing  and  act,"  said 
the  manager,  with  a  laugh. 

"  You  knew  that  long  ago ;  you  knew  that  when 
you  refused  to  aid  rne  a  few  weeks  ago.  There  is 
another  reason  ;  what  is  it-?" 

"How  will  this  knowledge  benefit  you,  Signorina? 
Is  it  not  enough  to  know  of  your  good  fortune,  and 
accept  and  adorn  it  without  question  of  how  it  was 
obtained  ?  You  have  gained  what  you  desired  honor- 
ably ;  rest  satisfied." 

"  But  I  want  to  know  why  you  relented  from  your 
former  hard  terms.  You  say  it  was  obtained  for  me ; 
surely  one  has  the  right  to  show  gratitude  for  a  favor 
such  as  is  shown  me !" 

"It  is  right  to  be  grateful,  yes;  I  accept  your 
thanks,  if  that  is  what  yon  wish." 

"  It  was  you,  then ;  you  are  my  friend  and 
patron  ?" 

."  No,  Signorina." 

"  Then  some  one  else, — who  ?" 

"  The  particular  person  desires  to  remain  unknown. 
I  represent  him." 

"  Ah,  then  you  did  find  a  patron  2" 

"Yes." 

"  What  was  his  motive  ?" 


202  TANCREDI. 

"  A  sense  of  duty  to  you." 

<l  A  sense  of  duty  to  me  !  Indeed,  you  make  me 
more  solicitous  than  ever  to  know  who  this  patron 
may  be.  Will  you  tell  me  P 

"  No  ;  I  cannot.  The  knowledge  can  do  you  no 
possible  good.  If  I  tell,  I  betray  a  trust.  I  will  not 
tell." 

"  Allow  me  to  be  the  judge  of  whether  this  knowl- 
edge will  do  me  good  or  harm.  Some  one  who  acts 
from  a  sense  of  duty  to  me?" 

"Yes,  Signorina." 

"  There  is  but  one  who  could  feel  or  talk  that  way ; 
I  don't  want  to  believe  that  it  is  he." 

"  Believe  what  you  please." 

"  Sir,  it  now  becomes  my  duty  to  demand  the  name 
of  this  person.  The  affair  can  go  no  further  until  I 
know." 

"Well,  of  all  the  whimsical,  vaccilating  women  I 
ever  knew,  you  bear  the  palm  !" 

"  You  refuse  to  tell  me  P 

"  I  have  not  the  authority  to  tell  you." 

"  Then  our  engagement  ends  here,  and  I  bid  you 
good  day !" 

"  Stay,  Signorina  !  You  act  in  bad  faith — very 
bad  faith,  not  only  toward  me,  but  your  patron." 

"  I  will  have  no  secret  patron.  You  will  not  tell 
me?" 


TANCREDI.  203 

"  Give  me  a  day  ;  allow  me  time  to  consult  with 
tins  generous  man,  that  I  may  tell  him  how  fickle  and 
ungrateful  you  are.  Perhaps  he  may  authorize  me  to 
Bpeak  his  name  to  you." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  wait,"  she  replied,  and  went 
away. 

After  two  days  she  returned. 

"  I  came  for  the  answer,"  she  said.  "  Who  is  this 
patron  ?" 

"  Signor  Michele  Tancredi !" 

"  Grando  Cielo  !  I  feared  it !  I  feared  it !  Gra- 
cious God,  why  dost  thou  follow  me  with  the  Shadow 
of  Death  !" 

She  sat  quite  still,  with  her  great  black  eyes  staring 
into  vacancy,  while  the  maestro  was  gesticulating,  and 
explaining  the  situation — apologizing,  flattering — 
praising  Tancredi — his  delicacy,  his  generosity,  his 
great  honor,  his  sense  of  obligation  to  her.  Without 
so  much  as  looking  at  him,  she  abruptly  arose  and 
departed  like  a  person  in  a  trance. 

When  Taplan  returned,  Rosetta  was  confined  to 
her  room  with  a  headache.  At  first  she  refused  to  see 
him,  but  he  persisted  so  earnestly  in  his  entreaty  that 
she  reluctantly  relented,  and  allowed  him  to  visit  her. 
When  he  entered  the  room  she  was  crouched  on  the 
hearth  rug  shivering  with  a  chill. 

He  was  frightened  at  her  haggard  appearance. 


264  TANCRED1. 

Her  symptoms  indicated  a  return  of  her  peculiar 
attacks  of  nervous  fever,  called  by  her,  "  crazy  spells," 
and  not  ill-named.  The  bare  mention  of  Tancredi's 
name  was  sufficient  to  arouse  her  rage,  but  never  had 
she  felt  toward  him  the  same  loathing  and  malignancy 
as  when  she  learned  of  his  attempt  to  resume  his  office 
of  patron  and  friend. 

When  she  reached  home,  she  locked  herself  in  her 
room,  refused  to  see  any  one,  and  quarreled  with 
Berta,  although  the  bolted  door  was  between  them. 
She  charged  the  maid  with  duplicity  and  treachery. 
Of  course  she  was  in  the  humor  to  resent  even  the 
friendly  intrusion  of  Taplan.  She  thought  that  he,  at 
least,  might  have  allowed  her  the  seclusion  she  craved. 
She  took  no  pains  to  conceal  her  displeasure  at  his 
presence. 

"  You  have  no  kind  word  for  me,  Rosa !"  he  ven- 
tured to  say,  after  he  had  stood  sometime  without  any 
kind  of  recognition. 

"  Why  did  you  come  ?"  she  said,  petulantly. 

"Why  did  I  come?  Because — because — why, 
Rosa,  what  a  question  for  you  to  ask  me !  I  came 
here  because  I  have  no  other  place  to  go — no  other 
place  I  want  to  go." 

"  But,  you  know  I  wish  to  be  alone." 

"Rosa,  what  is  the  matter  ?  Why  do  you  treat  me 
so  ?  Are  you  ill  ?  What  have  I  done  ?  God  knows, 


TANCREDI.  205 

my  little  darling,  that  I  never  had  it  in  my  heart  to 
give  you  a  moment's  pain." 

"OJi,  don't  ask  me  so  many  questions!  I  don't 
want  to  be  bothered  !  I  want  to  be  let  alone !  Go 
away,  do !" 

The  amazed  sailor  stood  for  a  moment  looking 
pleadingly  at  her,  when,  without  a  word,  but  with  a 
deep  sigh,  he  left  the  room,  looking  like  a  man  that 
had  jnst  come  from  an  interview  with  death. 

Berta  intercepted  him  and  told  him  of  Rosetta's 
determination  to  go  on  the  stage. 

"But,  she  must  not,"  he  earnestly  exclaimed. 
"Tell  her  I  forbid  it." 

"  Me  tell  her  !  I  would  as  soon  face  a  hungry  tiger 
as  tell  her  that !  No,  no,  John  Taplau  ;  tell  her  your- 
self." 

John  did  not  tell  her  then,  but  on  the  following 
evening,  which  was  the  evening  before  he  was  to  sail, 
he  obtained  another  interview  with  Rosetta,  when  he 
found  her  less  irritable  than  on  the  day  previous. 

"  Is  it  true,  Kosa,  that  you  think  of  going  on  the 
stage  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Then,  I  forbid  it." 

"  Is  it  you  who  gives  me  this  order  ?" 

"  Yes,  Kosa ;  I  don't  want  my  wife  to  be  an 
actress." 

12 


2C6  TANCREDI. 

"  But  I  am  not  your  wife  and  I  am  an  actress.  I 
was  wedded  to  my  profession  before  I  promised' to  wed 
you." 

"  But  you  must  give  it  up  for  me." 

"  Must  you  give  up  your  ship  for  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  necessary ;  but  that  is  different;  I  am  to 
make  our  living  by  my  work." 

"  I  can  make  more  money  on  the  stage  in  one  night 
than  you  can  in  five  months." 

"  For  all  that  you  must  give  it  up  for  me." 

"  What  if  I  will  not." 

"  I  hope  you  will,  since  I  wish  it." 

"  But  your  wish  is  unreasonable.  Besides  you  have 
no  right  or  authority  to  dictate  to  me  in  anything,  and 
I  will  not  obey  you  in  this." 

"Does  that  mean  that  our  engagement  is  can- 
celed?" 

"As  you  choose,  Sir." 

"  Ah,  Kosa,  you  can't  mean  that !" 

"  I  mean  that  I  will  go  on  the  stage  if  I  choose  ;  if 
you  think  that  sufficient  provocation  to  break  off  our 
engagement,  you  are  welcome." 

"  But  I  claim  the  right  to  say  what  your  life  shall 
be  as  my  future  wife." 

"  Since  you  are  so  domineering  over  what  you  call 
your  future  wife,  know  then  that  I  will  return  to  the 


TANCREDI.  207 

stage,  and  you  and  all  the  fiends  shall  not  prevent 
me." 

As  she  spoke  she  stood  up  before  him  defiant, 
and  looking  not  unlike  a  fury  called  up  by  her  invoca- 
tion. 

A  glow  of  pain,  or  anger,  or  both,  instantly 
mounted  to  Taplan's  face,  and  as  suddenly  faded,  leav- 
ing his  cheeks  as  blanched  as  a  corpse. 

He  reached  out  his  hands  to  her,  but  she  affected 
not  to  see  them. 

"You  will  think  better  when  I  am  gone. 
Good-by,  my  darling,  good-by  !  and  may  Heaven  keep 
you  from  harm  !" 

He  was  gone. 

A  great,  stifling,  despairing  cry  arose  in  the  woman's 
throat  when  she  saw  her  wounded  lover  vanish 
through  the  door,  which  he  so  gently  closed  after  him. 
It  was  a  cry  for  mercy,  a  cry  for  pardon,  for  his  love, 
for  his  return.  She  fell  on  the  floor,  where  she  lay 
unconscious. 

Eeturning  consciousness  brought  with  it  not 
remorse,  but  anger  ;  anger  at  her  lover  for  his  heartless 
desertion.  She  meant  for  him  to  stay ;  she  had  meant 
to  oppose  him  that  her  yielding  might  please  him  all 
the  more,  for  all  along  it  was  her  intention  to  tease 
and  yield  at  last.  She  had  meant  to  call  him  back, 
and  tell  him  how  repentant  she  was;  and,  in  her 


268  TANCREDI. 

frenzy,  she  would  have  sworn  that  she  did  call  him 
back,  but  that,  instead  of  heeding  her  cry,  he  had  pur- 
posely and  basely  deserted  her.  She  began  to  believe 
that  he  intentionally  sought  a  pretext  to  quarrel  in 
order  to  get  rid  of  her.  She  began  to  despise  him  for 
what  she  believed  to  be  his  baseness.  Where,  then, 
would  she  find  a  friend  in  all  the  cruel  world,  now  that 
John  Taplan  had  deserted  her  ? 

There  was  one  who  remained  faithful  through  all. 

Michcle  Tancredi ! 

Proclaim  it  aloud,  ye  brazen  fiends  of  evil ! 
Speak  it  with  such  clamor  that  the  gentler  voice  of  the 
guardian  angel  will  not  be  heard  !  Sieze  the  trumpet 
and  drown  the  humble  name  of  Taplan  with  the  cry 
of  Tancredi. 

The  circumambient  contra  spirits  re-exchanged 
places  about  the  presence  of  Rosetta  Godardo.  The 
shadow  of  evil  fell  like  a  pall  over  the  form  of  the 
doomed  woman  ;  while  the  bright  angel  fled  sorrowing 
away,  to  return,  alas,  nevermore. 

On  the  following  day  she  went  to  the  maestro  and 
sealed  her  fate. 

On  the  next,  Tancredi  began  a  series  of  artistic, 
paternal,  and  Platonic  visits  to  the  Yellow  Cottage. 

The  longest,  or  what  to  John  Taplan  seemed  the 
longest  voyage  of  his  life,  came  to  an  end  at  last,  when 
he  once  again  landed  in  New  York,  and  for  the  second 


TANCREDI.  2G9 

time  missed  Rosetta's  welcome  at  the  pier.  Tin's 
betokened  evil ;  bat  he  sought  her  at  the  cottage  where 
he  was  met  b}7  Berta  and  informed  that  the  Godardo 
was  absent,  and  would  be  absent  for  a  long  time,  per- 
haps had  gone  away  for  good.  The  maid  handed  him 
a  letter  which  he  carried  home,  and  read  what  fol- 
lows : 

JOHN  TAPLAN. 

Respected  Sir :  Since  yon  have  stated  so  plainly 
and  decidedly  what  are  your  wishes  regarding  the  con- 
duct- of  the  wife  of  your  choice,  and  since,  after  delib- 
eration, I  find  it  impossible  to  accept  the  terms  you 
demand,  I  therefore  and  hereby  terminate  our  engage- 
ment. All  intercourse  between  you  and  me  must 
cease  at  once  and  forever.  Spare  yourself  any  attempt 
to  write  or  visit  me,  for  I  positively  shall  refuse  to 
notice  you  in  any  way  whatever.  I  hope  you  will  be 
happy,  and  forget,  ROSETTA  GODARDO. 

"  She  didn't  write  it !  She  couldn't  write  such  a 
letter  as  that !"  exclaimed  John,  pressing  his  great 
palms  to  his  throbbing  temples. 

Taplan  was  not  endowed  with  a  demonstrative  dis- 
position. He  showed  outwardly  little  of  what  was 
going  on  within.  He  was  abundantly  supplied  with 
that  class  of  nerves  called  afferent,  or  carry  ing- in 
nerves,  which  reach  out  and  gather  in  external  impres- 


270  TANCREDI. 

sions,  but  he  was  poorly  supplied  with  efferent  nerves 
— the  reflex  system,  by  which  internal  impressions  are 
outwardly  manifested.  His  tentative  perceptions  were 
all  for  himself,  as  was  his  digestion.  The  impressions 
he  received,  good  and  bad,  were  digested  and  assimil- 
ated within,  while  very  little  bubbled  over  in  smiles 
and  tears.  No  one  ever  saw  him  weep ;  no  one  ever 
heard  him  laugh.  Such  men  bear  adversity  badly, 
probably  because  their  pent  up  anguish  expends  its 
frenzy  within,  instead  of  escaping  in  outward  tumult. 

To  watch  the  great,  silent  anguish  of  the  strong 
man,  you  would  wish  to  see  the  safety  valves  opened, 
that  the  overcharged  feelings  might  be  lighted  by  a 
gush  of  tears.  He  did  not  weep,  but  sat  with  a  far- 
away look  in  his  lustreless  eyes. 

Within  three  days  he  visited  the  cottage  many 
times,  only  to  hear  the  phrase,  "  Not  at  home." 

He  read  and  reread  the  cruel  letter  many  times 
every  day,  but  he  could  not  believe  but  what  the  letter 
was  a  forgery. 

"  She  can't  write  English,  and  she  wouldn't  write 
such  English  if  she  could,"  he  kept  saying  to  himself. 

He  believed  that  if  he  could  only  see  her  alone, 
just  for  a  minute,  he  could  explain  away  every  obstacle 
in  the  way  of  reconciliation.  He  had  heard  that  all 
lovers  quarrel  once,  at  least,  and  happily  make  up 
again  ;  this,  he  thought,  was  a  lover's  quarrel,  and 


TANCREDI.  271 

would  have  the  usual  happy  termination.     If  he  could 
only  see  her! 

He  wrote  her  note  after  note,  hoping  in  that  way 
to  attract  her  attention  and  arouse  her  interest.  Occa- 
sionally, during  their  happy  days,  he  had  composed 
fugitive  verses,  which  she  had  set  to  music  and  sung  to 
him.  He  did  not  pretend  to  write  poetry,  only 
"  verses  to  his  mistress'  eyebrows,"  an  industry 
common  enough  with  lovers  at  an  early  stage  of  the 
fever.  He  now  composed  and  sent  to  her  the  follow- 
ing lines : 

'  O  can  you  forget ! 

Or  do  you  regret 
How  fondly  we  loved  in  the  past  ? 

On  that  sweet  autumn  day, 

How  the  hours  flew  away  I 
Too  bright  and  beautiful  to  last ! 

Though  fortune  ill-starred 

Our  voyage  has  marred, 
And  storms  drive  us  wider  apart ; 

From  the  hurricane's  track 

Our  love  will  turn  back, 
And  hope  cast  anchor  in  the  heart. 

There's  a  haven  of  Rest 
'Mong  the  isles  of  the  blest ; 
My  darling,  we'll  make  that  our  goal, 
And  in  patience  await 
At  the  crystal  barred  gate 
That  swings  for  th'  pilgrim's  weary  soul." 


273  TANCREDI. 

His  letter  and  his  verses  were  returned  with  the 
verbal  reply  that  the  separation  was  final — was  forever. 

John  Taplan's  ship  went  to  sea  without  him. 

What  cared  he  for  his  ship  now,  since  the  bonniest 
bark  that  ever  sailed  had  gone  down  with  all  on  board? 
How  could  he  ever  again  guide  a  ship  through  the 
waves,  now  that  he  himself  was  storm  driven,  without 
helm  or  compass,  scudding  over  an  unknown  sea  where 
the  only  lights  were  pirate  signals  portending  danger 
and  disaster  ? 

Let  the  winds  howl !  Let  the  ships  sail  out  on  the 
boiling  sea !  A  ship  had  sailed  away  from  port  that 
would  never  be  signalled  again.  Let  Neptune  shake 
the  ocean  with  his  wrath,  that  other  men  might  wail 
with  him  for  lost  ships  !  Let  Erebus  ope  its  sulphur- 
ous caverns  and  vomit  a  deluge  of  fiends  to  overrun 
the  earth  with  crime  and  hate  and  havoc !  There  was 
no  more  right,  or  justice,  or  love,  or  heaven,  but  a 
world  turned  into  a  reeking  lazar-honee,  teeming  with 
demons  damned. 

John  Taplan  closed  his  heart  against  his  fellow- 
sufferer,  man ;  he  shut  his  soul  against  hope. 

The  cup  of  Punic  Faith  was  filled  to  overflowing ; 
who  shall  drink  the  envenomed  contents  down  to  the 
last  bitter  dregs  ? 


PAET  TPIIRD. 
DIES  IRAK 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

"  Let  us  rise  up  and  part  ;  she  will  not  know ; 

Let  us  go  seaward  as  the  great  winds  go 
Full  of  blown  sand  and  foam  ;  what  help  is  here  ? 

There  is  no  help,  for  all  these  things  are  so, 
And  all  the  world's  as  bitter  as  a  tear. 
And  how  these  things  are  ye  strove  to  show, 
She  would  not  know." 

THE  occupants  of  the  cottage  saw  that  John  Tap- 
Ian  meant  mischief,  and  they  kept  Rosetta  Godardo 
out  of  the  way,  trusting  that  he  would  become  recon- 
ciled with  his  fate,  or  go  away  to  sea. 

But  his  vigilance  abated  not,  neither  did  he  go  to 
sea.  He  haunted  the  cottage  for  weeks,  and  often  in 
the  night  did  Berta  peep  out  at  a  haggard  figure 
standing  sentinel,  like  a  wan  ghost  before  some  ancient 
castle  stained  with  blood-marks  of  a  long-forgotten 
crime. 

12*  [2731 


274  TANCKEDI 

Suddenly  and  unaccountably  he  quit  his  post, 
much  to  the  relief  of  the  inmates  of  the  cottage,  who 
felt  anything  but  easy  at  the  menacing  proximity  of 
the  huge  man  with  the  bloodshot  eyes. 

He  knocked  at  the  door  of  a  tavern  near  by,  where 
he  was  hospitably  admitted.  He  took  to  the  flowing 
bowl  and  drowned  his  sorrow  in  rum.  He  would  sit 
quietly  for  hours  in  the  chimney-corner  of  the  rum- 
shop,  swallowing  great  draughts  of  grog  and  nodding 
by  turns,  when  he  would  abruptly  stagger  to  his  feet, 
as  if  impelled  by  the  recollection  of  some  urgent  duty 
which  could  no  longer  be  delayed,  and  go  reeling 
homeward,  muttering  to  himself  in  an  earnest,  inco- 
herent manner.  When  he  reached  the  point  in  the 
road,  opposite  the  cottage  gate,  he  would  halt  and 
face  the  entrance,  as  though  on  the  move  to  enter. 
Changing  his  mind,  he  would  slowly  turn  with  bowed 
head  and  enter  his  own  house,  where  he  would  sleep 
off  the  potations  of  the  day. 

One  evening  as  he  went  staggering  along  the  road 
on  his  way  home,  a  carriage  passed  him,  and  drew  up 
at  the  cottage  gate.  Tancrecli  alighted  and  entered 
the  dwelling.  The  drunken  man  came  reeling  along 
with  head  sunk  on  breast  arid  hat  slouched  over .  his 
half  closed  eyes,  apparently  oblivious  to  all  about  him. 
He  also  entered  that  gate,  shambled  up  to  the  door, 
which  he  opened,  and  strode  past  Berta  into  the  hall, 


TANCREDI.  275 

a:id  onward  to  the  familiar  sitting-room.  A  moment 
later,  a  crash  was  heard,  and  Tancredi  was  seen  flying 
through  the  front  window,  carrying  sash  and  havoc 
with  him.  Before  another  minute,  John  was  floun- 
dering down  the  path  on  his  way  home  as  stupidly 
unconcerned  as  if  he  had  done  nothing  but  drink  and 
doze  for  a  week. 

The  next  day  the  domestic,  who  did  little  else 
than  extricate  Taplan  from  his  drunken  boots,  was 
instructed  to  advertise  the  brick  house  for  sale. 

"  I  shall  go  to  pieces  in  this  calm,"  he  said.  "  I 
must  weigh  anchor  and  steer  for  another  port." 

As  a  compliment  to  his  metaphors  the  servant 
painted  on  a  board,  in  picturesque  letters,  "  For  Sail," 
?.n<l  hung  it  on  the  house  front.  The  result  was  a  sale 
within  a  week. 

When  his  household  was  broken  he  drifted  into 
the  city  and  established  himself  among  the  sailors  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  Five  Points,  where  he  con- 
tinued to  keep  himself  saturated  with  rum,  and  where 
he  shared  his  store  with  his  impecunious  comrades  as 
long  as  his  money  lasted.  At  length  mania  potu  gave 
notice  that  his  health  was  bankrupt,  and  the  bank  gave 
notice  that  his  credit  was  in  like  insolvent  condition. 
In  two  years  time  John  Taplan  was  become  one  of  the 
most  abject  of  the  vagrant  brood  that  infested  that 
squalid  locality. 


276  TANCREDI. 

There  were  two  friends,  and  only  two,  who  clung 
to  him  through  his  degradation  ;  one  was  an  old  ship- 
mate, named  Haley,  and  the  other  was  Mr.  Wallace, 
an  officer  connected  with  the  western  terminus  of  the 
packet  company.  These  two  friends  remonstrated 
with  the  besotted  wretch,  who,  with  all  his  abasement, 
still  maintained  his  character  as  a  harmless  and  peace- 
able fellow.  He  wronged  himself,  and  that  was  the 
sum  total  of  his  offense.  They  offered  to  intercede 
for  him  and  get  him  restored  to  his  old  berth  on  the 
packet,  if  he  would  reform  ;  and  he  was  always  ready 
to  promise.  But,  alas !  what  is  the  promise  of 
an  unfortunate  being  brutalized  by  chronic  alco- 
holism ? 

John  would  promise  anything  they  asked,  and,  on 
the  strength  of  his  vows,  would  borrow  a  dollar  "  to 
make  it  more  bindin',"  as  he  expressed  it.  With  the 
money  thus  obtained  he  would  lay  in  a  supply  of 
cheap  rum  to  brace  his  nerves  up  to  the  work  of 
reformation. 

But  the  good  work  soon  languished,  and  presently 
subsided  altogether — the  rum  did  not  hold  out  long 
enough  to  thoroughly  establish  reform.  His  nerves 
gave  out  with  the  rum,  and  he  fell  back  into  his  old 
habits  and  the  customary  jobs  by  which  he  gained  a 
precarious  livelihood.  Thus  did  he  become  fixed  in 
the  ways  of  a  vagrant,  lost  to  all  sense  of  shame,  reck- 


TANCREDI.  277 

less  of  the  present,  indifferent  of  the  future.  And 
thus  the  disgraceful  years  rolled  round  with  him. 

When  it  became  known,  that  Taplan  had  left 
Yorkville,  Tlosetta  Godardo  returned  to  the  cottage, 
where  her  restored  paramour,  Tancredi,  passed  much 
of  his  time. 

It  seems  like  paying  tribute  to  immorality  to  say 
that  she  was  happy ;  and  yet  it  is  true,  she  was 
intensely,  acutely  happy.  Of  course,  it  was  not  that 
calm,  equable  and  secure  content  which  she  experi- 
enced while  betrothed  to  the  sailor,  but  rather  the 
happiness  of  moral  intoxication.  She  was  peculiarly 
adapted  to  lead  a  vicious  life,  provided  the  vice  and 
the  life  lead  were  of  her  own  choosing.  Her  attach- 
ment to  Tancredi  was  so  all  absorbing,  and  her  moral 
sense  so  abnormally  dulled  by  his  contact,  that  all 
other  impressions  were  swept  away  or  disregarded. 
Her  passion  for  him  returned  with  all  its  former  aban- 
don and  intensity,  and  she  had  no  place  or  time  for 
shame,  anxiety  or  remorse. 

Fate,  however,  was  against  her  appearing  in  opera 
in  America.  The  wages  of  sin  was  the  salary  she 
drew,  and  which  cancelled  the  engagement  with  the 
manager.  A  male  heir  was  born  to  the  house  of  Tan- 
credi in  Philadelphia  in  January,  and  in  the  following 
March  a  male  child  was  born  in  the  Yellow  Cottage  in 
Yorkville. 


W8  TANC11EOI. 

The  Yorkville  child  was  called  Carlo  Godardo. 
TJie  Philadelphia  boy  was  christened  Charles  Tancredi. 
Both  children  grew  in  strength  and  loveliness,  and  the 
father,  Michele  Tancredi,  should  have  been  proud  of 
them  both.  He  discreetly  suppressed  that  half  of  the 
joy  he  felt  for  the  child  at  the  Yellow  Cottage.  He 
succeeded  in  concealing  from  his  wife  all  knowledge 
of  his  pseudo  family ;  more  than  a  score  of  years  passed 
before  Madam  Tancredi  knew  of  such  a  being  as  Carlo 
Godardo. 

It  would  be  tedious,  unprofitable  and  falsely  deli- 
cate to  moralize  on  the  evil  lives  led  by  Tancredi  and 
the  Godardo.  It  would  be  still  worse  to  apologize  for 
the  narration  of  the  story  of  their  shame.  Besides, 
there  should  be  no  attempted  vindication  of  the  cohe- 
rence, the  candor,  and  the  fidelity  of  history.  History 
must  vindicate  itself,  must  evolve  and  determine  its 
own  moralization.  This  history  deals  with  the  con- 
crete, not  the  abstract ;  with  flesh  and  blood,  not  with 
dry  bones.  This  story  follows  individuals,  not  ethical 
theories.  It  narrates  the  actions  of  persons,  what  they 
actually  did,  not  what  they  should  have  done  ;  it  fol- 
lows them  into  vice  and  crime,  as  well  as  into  virtuous 
ways,  to  find  who  rises  or  falls  on  the  seething  tide  of 
passion.  This  is  its  aim  ;  let  it  not  be  loaded  down 
with  the  dead  weight  of  prudery. 

Evil,  however  cunning  and  secret,  has  a  myriad 


TANCREDI.  279 

spies  and  as  many  betrayers.  The  husband  of  the 
Tancred i  stripe  must  learn  to  assume  the  stupidity  of 
the  opium  eater,  and  wear  a  mask  as  cold  as  the 
Sphynx.  To  hoodwink  an  observant  wife,  especially 
a  loving  wife,  the  more  need  of  an  impenetrable  mask. 

Since  Madam  Tancredi  had  given  up  fashionable 
dissipation  she  had  turned  her  whole  attention  to  her 
husband  and  her  household.  But,  strange  to  tell,  her 
praiseworthy  deportment,  instead  of  establishing  cor- 
respondingly commendable  habits  in  her  husband, 
only  tended  to  encourage  his  vanity,  and  drive  him 
back  into  his  old  roving  adventures.  So  long  as  he 
was  uncertain  of  his  wife's  affection  so  long  was  he 
circumspect  in  his  behavior,  and  so  long  did  he  dance 
attendance  on  her  whims  and  wishes ;  but  now,  when 
lie  felt  secure  of  her  devotion,  and  especially  since  she 
had  become  a  mother,  his  loyalty  began  to  wane  and 
he  gradually  drifted  back  into  his  old  Bohemian  life, 
and  bestowed  his  gallantries  away  from  home. 

Wives  are  much,  very  much,  to  blame  for  such 
husbands  as  was  Tancredi,  and  most  to  blame  for  their 
maudlin  idolatry. 

You  have  in  your  mind's  eye  a  certain  gentleman 
of  your  acquaintance  who  is  possessed  of  an  angel 
wife,  whose  only  fault  is  her  too  slavish  and  zealous 
love  for  her  husband.  She  guards  his  buttons  and 
small  clothes,  stands  sentry  over  his  slippers  and  coffee. 


230  TANCREDI. 

and  lines  bis  home  life  with  velvet — in  brief,  idolizes 
him  ;  and  yet — well,  you  know  his  reputation. 

How  would  you  manage  him  if  you  were  bis  wife? 
for  you  could  manage  him,  you  know  you  could. 
How  often  your  fingers  ache  just  to  put  him  through 
his  paces  once.  It  is  evident  that  his  wife  cannot 
manage  him ;  she  is  so  slavishly  devoted  to  him,  is  so 
jealous,  so  persistently  hanging  around  him,  and  so 
easily  cajoled  by  him,  that  she  could  not  carry  ont  a 
rational  plan  of  management  to  save  her. 

Poor  woman !  she  is  in  love  with  him,  while  you 
are  not. 

And  that  is  the  advantage  you  would  have  over 
her,  and  over  him,  if  you  were  to  try  your  hand  at 
breaking  him  in. 

The  philosophy  belonging  to  this  subject  must  be 
supplied  or  not  by  the  reader.  But  after  all,  it  is  as  it 
is,  loving,  doting,  self-sacrificing  wives,  will  go  on 
spoiling  otherwise  good  husbands. 

There  is  nothing  will  drive  men  of  the  Tancredi 
pattern  (there  are  such  husbands)  away  from  home 
and  duty  so  effectually  as  that  obtrusive  and  over  zeal- 
ous adoration  practiced  by  some  wives;  nothing  will 
keep  them  steady  in  the  line  of  duty  so  effectually  as 
a  little  indifference,  or  even  neglect.  A  little  streak 
of  green  jealousy  is  a  healthy  shade  in  the  domestic 
rainbow  in  such  cases. 


TANCREDI.  281 

Madam  Tancredi  marked  her  husband's  wavering 
devotion  with  painful  solicitude.  He  was  much  from 
home,  and  the  excuses  he  gave  for  his  absence  were 
often  contradictory  and  always  unsatisfactory.  Her 
hope  that  the  child  would  attract  him  to  his  family 
turned  out  to  be  a  bitter  disappointment. 

She  redoubled  her  efforts  to  make  home  attractive, 
and  tried  a  hundred  arts  to  lure  him  back  to  duty,  but 
in  vain ;  the  pampered  man  grew  more  and  more 
negligent  of  his  marital  obligations.  He  would  remain 
away  for  days,  where,  she  knew  not ;  and  when  he 
did  pnss  an  hour  at  home  he  was  uneasy,  and  mani- 
fested but  little  affection  for  wife  or  child. 

More  than  two  years  had  passed  in  sorrow  away, 
and  Madam  Alice  despaired  of  ever  being  a  happy 
wife  again.  She  began  to  seek  consolation  and  recrea- 
tion outside  the  pale  of  her  husband's  society.  Her 
health  was  broken,  and  she  was  ordered  by  her  physi- 
cian to  the  seashore,  where  she  spent  the  summer  with 
her  cousin,  Mrs.  Wallace,  of  New  York.  About  the 
first  of  September  she  went  home  with  her  relative, 
intending  to  remain  for  a  two  weeks  visit,  before  re- 
turning to  Philadelphia. 

This  cousin  was  the  wife  of  Mr.  Wallace,  already 
introduced  as  one  of  the  friends  of  John  Taplan.  The 
latter  was  often  employed  by  Mr.  Wallace  to  go  on 
errands,  or  perform  odd  jobs  about  the  packet's 


282  TANCREDI. 

V 

office.  Thus  it  happened  that  John  Taplan  was  the 
very  man  hired  to  assist  in  delivering  the  luggage  of 
the  two  ladies  from  the  steamboat  to  the  Wallace 
residence.  Madam  Tancredi  made  some  remarks 
about  his  haggard  appearance. 

"There  is  quite  a  romance  connected  with  the 
poor  man,  as  I  have  often  heard  my  husband  tell," 
said  Mrs.  Wallace.  "  When  he  comes  home  this  even- 
ing he  shall  relate  it  to  you." 

That  evening  Mr.  Wallace  told  Madam  Tancredi 
the  story  of  John  Taplan,  the  sea  pilot,  a  story  with 
which  he  was  tolerably  familiar. 

He  told  her  of  Taplan's  vocation,  his  worthiness, 
his  promise  of  a  good  life,  how  he  had  fallen  in  love 
with  an  opera  singer  who  proved  false  after  promising 
to  marry  him  ;  that  an  Italian  nobleman,  who  had 
brought  the  singing  woman  to  this  country,  and  who 
had  married  an  American  lady,  had  cut  Taplan  out, 
and  that  the  latter,  broken  by  their  treachery,  had 
taken  to  drink  and  become  the  miserable  sot  she  had 
seen. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  dear  Alice?"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Wallace,  in  alarm.  "  You  are  as  pale  as  a 
ghost!" 

"It  is  the  story!  My  nerves  are  not  much 
improved,  I  find.  Don't  you  see  I  am  still  very 
nervous  ?  But  the  story — your  story  ;  it  affects  me 


TANCREDI.  283 

greatl}'.  Don't  be  distressed  ;  I  shall  be  better  soon. 
There,  now  ;  I'm  over  it,  already,  see !  Do  you  know 
the  name  of  the  singing  woman?" 

"  I  do  not.  I  know  nothing  more  than  I  have 
told  yon  ;  but  Taplan  knows,  and  I'll  ask  him  to  tell 
me  the  name." 

"No,  I  beg  of  you  not;  please  do  not  ask  him — 
do  not  speak  of  the  matter  to  him ;  I  ask  this  as  a 
personal  favor.  Pardon  me  for  not  stating  my  reason 
at  present  for  this  urgent  request.  Let  me  ask  him, 
for  I  am  interested  in  the  story  of  his  life,  and  may 
be  of  use  to  him.  Will  you  kindly  send  him  to  me, 
to-morrow  ?" 

On  the  following  day  she  had  a  long  interview 
with  John  Taplan,  who  gave  her  names,  dates  and 
facts  readily  enough.  She  made  it  worth  his  while  to 
maintain  a  strict  secrecy,  a  not  difficult  task,  for  to 
his  naturally  reticent  disposition,  was  added  the 
stupefaction  induced  by  long  continued  dram  drinking. 
He  agreed  to  discover  whether  or  not  the  woman, 
Godardo,  still  occupied  the  Yellow  Cottage,  and  if 
Tancredi  still  visited  her. 

Taplan's  greatly  altered  appearance  served  as  a 
complete  disguise  while  scouting  about  his  former 
haunts  in  Yorkville.  He  hung  around  the  place  for 
two  days  before  he  was  rewarded  with  a  discovery. 
He  then  saw  Tancredi,  in  company  with  the  Godardo, 


284  TANCREDI. 

drive  from  the  cottage  in  a  carriage,  and  he  saw  them 
return.  He  learned  from  the  inmates  of  the  tavern 
that  the  gentleman  regularly  visited  the  cottage  every 
Tuesday  and  Friday.  The  visit  he  witnessed  was  on 
Friday.  He  reported  to  Madam. 

On  the  following  Tuesday,  piloted  by  Taplan, 
Madam  Tancredi  drove  out  the  road  to  Yorkville, 
where  she  met  and  passed  Michele  Tancredi  and 
Rosetta  Godardo  taking  a  drive  in  an  open  carriage. 
On  her  return  she  saw  the  pair  enter  the  cottage. 

Madam  Tancredi  drove  back  to  the  city  and  dis- 
missed John  Taplan,  leaving  a  liberal  reward  on 
deposit  with  Mr.  Wallace. 

On  the  following  day,  leaving  her  son  with  Mrs. 
"Wallace,  she  returned  to  Philadelphia,  where  she  met 
her  husband. 

Her  interview  with  him  on  that  occasion  was  the 
most  serious  and  painful  transaction  of  her  life.  All 
respect,  all  love,  all  regard  for  the  man  she  had  vowed 
to  honor  and  obey,  was  gone,  while  pride  and  anger 
took  their  place  and  sustained  her  through  the  reckon- 
ing with  her  betrayer. 

"( I  wish  to  speak  to  you  on  a  very  serious  matter," 
she  quietly  said,  as  soon  as  they  were  alone. 

The  Signor  came  and  stood  beside  her,  ready  to 
hear  what  she  might  say. 

"  For  a  long  time  you  have  regularly  made  visits 


TANCREDI  285 

to  New  York.  Yon  go  there  on  Tuesdays  and  Fri- 
days ;  may  I  ask  what  business  calls  you  there  so  fre- 
quently and  so  regularly  ?" 

"  You  may,  certainly,  my  dear  wife ;  I  have  many 
times  told  you,  as  I  do  now,  that  I  go  there  on  business 
connected  with  my  Italian  estates." 

"  Nothing  else  ?" 

"  No  ;  why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"  To  satisfy  myself  of  your  utter  disregard  for 
truth  and  honor !" 

"  Your  speech  is  unintelligible  to  me." 

"  Listen,  while  I  make  it  plain  to  you.  I  was  in 
New  York  on  last  Friday." 

"  I  believe  you  were,  since  you  say  so." 

"  I  was  also  there  on  yesterday,  Tuesday." 

"I  admit  you  were;  and  I  also  was  there  yester- 
day." 

"  What  part  of  the  city  did  you  visit  ?" 

"  I  don't  remember  all  the  places  I  did  visit.  I 
was  at  my  agents  on  Beekman  Street,  at  my  bankers 
on  Wall  Street,  at  my  hotel  on  Broadway." 

"  You  visited  one  other  place  which  you  neglect  to 
mention." 

The  husband  was  silent.     He  sat  down. 

The  wife  resumed  : 

"  I  was  driven  out  the  Harlem  road  on  yesterday. 
I  was  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  yellow  cottage  in 


286  TANCREDI. 

Yorkville.  I  was  guided  to  that  spot  by  a  sailor 
called  John  Taplan,  the  discarded  lover  of  Rosctta 
Godardo,  who  now  occupies  that  cottage.  I  passed 
you  as  you  rode  out  with  her  ;  on  your  return,  I  saw 
you  enter  her  dwelling  in  her  company.  You  drove 
out  with  her  on  last  Friday.  You  visit  her  every 
Tuesday  and  Friday,  and  have  done  so  for  the  last 
three  years.  You  prevented  her  from  marrying  an 
honest  man  to  whom  she  was  engaged,  this  John  Tap- 
lan, who  would  have  given  her  a  home  and  an  honest 
name  but  for  your  perfidy,  and  who,  because  of  your 
infamy  and  her  treachery,  has  become  a  drunken  vaga- 
bond !" 

She  paused,  and  for  a  solemn  minute  nought  was 
heard  but  her  husband's  rapid  breathing. 

"  The  blood  of  the  sailor  and  the  singing  woman 
be  on  your  head  !" 

While  the  injured  wife  went  on  with  her  terrible 
reckoning,  the  husband  bent  like  a  trembling  reed 
before  the  storm,  and  when  she  concluded  with  her 
awful  imprecation,  he  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and 
sobbed  like  a  frightened  child. 

"  Listen  to  me  1"  continued  Madam  Tancredi,  ris- 
ing and  standing  over  the  culprit.  "  I  wish  to  avoid 
scandal.  I  wish  to  shield  my  family  from  the  dis- 
grace of  a  public  exposure  of  your  deeds.  I  want  to 


TANCREDI.  237 

guard  my  son  from  his  father's  shame.  He  must 
remember  you  as  one  dead. 

"  By  the  laws  of  this  land  you  are  a  criminal,  and 
the  prison  your  place.  There  is  but  one  way  by 
•which  you  may  escape  the  penalty  of  your  crime,  and 
that  is  flight.  This  one  chance  of  escape  I  grant  you. 
You  must  leave  this  roof,  leave  me  within  this  hour, 
and  you  must  quit  this  country  at  once  and  forever. 
Go!  There  is  nothing  more  to  be  said.  Go  !" 

"  Let  me  first  embrace  my  child." 

"  You  shall  never  again  behold  his  face.  I  have 
taken  the  precaution  to  place  him  safe  beyond  your 
reach.  You  shall  never,  never  embrace  my  child, 
never !" 

"  Surely  you  cannot,  will  not,  refuse  me  this  one 
last  poor  request  ?" 

"I  refuse  you  everything  but  the  freedom  to  fly 
from  me  and  mine  forever.  I  renounce  you  as  a 
traitor  and  a  felon,  unfit  to  live,  and  unworthy  the 
favor  of  a  dog !  Begone  !" 

The  crushed  man  went  staggering  from  her  pres- 
ence and  the  house. 


TANCREDI. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

"  Oh  offspring  of  the  earth,  whom  Mars  once  sowed,  having 
denuded  of  its  teeth  the  savage  jaw  of  the  dragon,  will  yc  not 
uplift  your  staffs,  the  support  of  your  right  hands,  and  make 
hloody  the  impious  head  of  this  man,  who,  not  being  a  Cadman, 
rules  over  these  youths  the  basest  of  Aliens  ?"— EURIPIDES. 

ROSETTA  GODAKDO  loved  her  child,  madly  and 
tuinultuously,  as  was  characteristic  of  all  she  felt  or 
did. 

She  had  no  emotion  which  did  not  run  over  into 
passion,  and  no  passion  which  was  not  akin  to  madness. 
"With  her  it  was  never  simple  like  or  dislike,  it  was 
adoration  or  malignant  hate.  Her  nervous  system  was 
ever  attuned  to  the  very  highest  pitch  of  the  living 
sentient  diapason. 

She  was  jealous  even  of  the  caresses  Berta  bestowed 
on  little  Carl,  and  furious  if  he  manifested  preference 
for  his  nurse.  She  mapped  out  his  future  career, 
which  was  to  be  great  and  glorious,  and  gave  Tancredi 
no  peace  until  he  pledged  to  do  for  her  boy  what  he 
would  do  for  his  own  lawful  child.  The  father  was 
really  fond  of  his  son,  Carl  Godardo. 

Tancredi,  justly,  was  more  worthy  than  his  deeds, 


TANCREDI.  289 

and  deserved  better  than  his  fate.  It  is  not  meant 
that  his  wrong-doings  were  excusable,  or  that  he  was 
in  the  smallest  degree  irresponsible,  it  is  not  even 
meant  that  his  punishment  was  too  severe  ;  but  it  is 
meant  that  he  did  not  fully  appreciate  the  heinousness 
of  his  acts,  or  rather  that  his  motives  were  less  wicked 
than  his  acts,  and  that  he  did  not  know  he  was  so  bad 
until  he  came  to  view  himself  and  his  past  from  the 
standpoint  of  an  exiled  husband  and  father.  He  was 
naturally  endowed  with  a  keen  sense  of  honor,  and 
was  brave  and  generous  to  a  fault ;  but  he  was  also 
vain  and  sensual,  the  outgrowths  of  wealth,  indolence 
and  flattery.  He  had  been  so  long  accustomed  to  a 
luxurious  and  voluptuous  life,  that  marriage  to  him  was 
a  mere  conventional  canon,  to  be  strictly  enforced  as  to 
the  wife,  but  loosely  applied  as  to  the  husband.  So 
long  as  he  was  discreet  and  did  not  shock  public 
decency,  and  so  long  as  he  kept  his  intrigues  from  his 
wife's  knowledge,  he  felt  no  npbraidings  of  conscience. 
Ignorance  in  the  wife  was  his  key  of  safety  and  his 
maxim  of  wedded  bliss. 

But  his  wife's  detection  of  his  secret  amour, 
followed  by  her  tierce  denunciation,  aroused  his  moral 
supineness,  and  brought  him  to  contemplate  the  sub- 
ject of  marital  obligation  as  he  never  had  viewed  it 
before.  He  went  from  her  presence  guilt-stricken  and 
overwhelmed  with  remorse.  Before  he  left  the  city 
13 


290  TANCREDI. 

he  made  one  more  urgent  appeal  for  clemency.  Find* 
ing  her  inexorable  he  sullenly  submitted  to  the  inevit- 
able and  went  to  New  York. 

He  now  turned  his  attention  to  his  quasi  family  in 
Yorkville. 

The  humiliating  blow  fell  so  suddenly  and  crush- 
ingly  that  he  thought  of  little  else  than  his  shame  and 
the  means  of  escaping  from  it.  He  was  anxious  to 
depart  at  once  from  a  country  in  which  he  had  suffered 
so  much  misfortune. 

Bitter  as  were  his  thoughts,  and  vengeful  as  were 
his  feelings  against  the  whole  world,  there  was  still 
one  left,  he  fondly  believed,  who  would  give  him 
shelter  and  welcome — the  Godardo.  She  would  love 
him  the  more,  now  that  others  spurned  him.  He 
would  go  to  her. 

The  Godardo !  Was  she  not  the  silver-tongued 
siren  who  seduced  him  from  home,  country,  and  honor  ? 
"Was  not  his  whole  trouble  before  and  since  marriage 
caused  by  her  ?  Why  should  he  go  to  her  ? 

The poinum  Adamii  stuck  in  his  throat ;  it  choked 
him ;  it  would  not  go  down,  it  would  not  come  up. 
It  was  the  woman  who  tempted  him  ;  it  was  she  who 
lured  him  to  his  ruin  ;  on  her  he  turned  all  his  wrath. 

Lived  there  ever  a  fallen  man,  who,  in  the  hour  of 
his  humiliation,  did  not  screen  himself  behind  "  The 
woman  thou  gav'st  me  ?" 


TANCREDI.  291 

Mea  culpa,  mea  maxima  culpa,  is  nowhere  found 
in  the  liturgy  of  heroes.  A  man  may  be  proud,  and 
strong,  and  brave,  and  great,  on  the  field  or  in  the 
forum,  but  when  he  falls  in  the  snare  of  his  own  mak- 
ing he  is  weak,  and  cowardly  and  small. 

Let  some  ambitious  romancer,  by  way  of  change 
and  a  challenge  to  credulity,  picture  a  godlike  hero, 
sunken  in  crime  and  shaken  by  remorse,  and  let  this 
unnatural  author  put  words  in  that  culprit's  mouth — 
words  never  spoken  before — the  sublime  words  of 
self  accusation  :  "  1  am  what  I  am  because  I  am,  and 
not  because  of  a  woman  !"  When  such  a  hero  is 
found  the  gods  will  make  room  in  the  heavens  for  one 
more  constellation  to  be  filled  by  him. 

Tancredi  attributed  all  his  misfortune  to  Rosetta 
Godardo,  and,  while  he  stood  self-confessed  with  hav- 
ing played  the  fool,  he  determined  that  she  should 
bear  with  him  one  half  the  punishment.  She  had 
wrecked  his  life,  and  her  life  must  also  be  wrecked. 
He  determined  to  avoid  her  forever. 

He  set  about  at  once  winding  up  his  affairs  in 
America,  preparatory  to  secretly  leaving  for  Italy.  He 
sent  a  trusty  messenger  to  summon  Berta  to  his  hotel, 
and  to  come  unobserved. 

The  dutiful  maid,  ignorant  of  her  master's  disaster, 
escaped,  ostensibly  for  a  walk  with  Carl,  and  reported 
herself  to  Tancredi.  The  poor  child,  unconscious  of 


292  TANCREDI. 

its  father's  feelings,  ran  forward,  as  was  its  wont,  with 
a  cry  of  joy  and  attempted  to  climb  on  its  father's 
kr.ee.  He  shook  it  off  with  a  frown  and  a  curse — 
spurned  it  as  he  would  a  reptile,  when  the  amazed 
little  fellow,  with  bewildered  step.-,  slunk  back  to 
Berta,  who  gathered  him  in  her  arms. 

"  Why,  Master  !  what  ails  thee,  that  thou  should'st 
spurn  from  thee  thy  Carl  ?" 

"  I  am  ruined,  and  the  boy's  mother  is  the  cause. 
I  wish  the  devil  had  them  both  !  Why  did  you  bring 
him  here  ?  I  meant  you  should  come  alone.  I  don't 
want  either  of  them  to  come  near  me." 

"  Grando  Cielo !  What  has  happened  thee,  my 
good  Master,  that  thou  should'st  talk  of  ruin  ?" 

u  My  wife  has  discovered  my  visits  to  the  cottage. 
She  followed  me  there  under  the  guidance  of  that 
cursed  sailor,  John  Taplan.  She  gave  me  the  choice 
between  prison  and  exile.  I  chose  the  latter." 

"  And  thou  go'st  to  Italy  ?" 

"  Immediately.  I  sent  for  you  to  accompany  me 
thither." 

"  And  Rosetta  ?" 

"  Her  ?  I  care  not  what  becomes  of  her,  so  that 
I  never  see  her  or  hear  of  her  again.  I  am  quit  of 
her  forever !" 

"  Alas,  poor  woman  !  And  Carl,  what  is  to  become 
of  him?" 


TANCREDI.  293 

"  His  mother's  fate !" 

"  Dio  Mio  !  Not  that,  good  Master,  oh  say  not 
that !  Speak  not  so  cruelly  of  thy  own  flesh  and 
blood.  See  us  on  our  knees  at  thy  feet !  For  the 
holy  Madonna's  sake,  drire  him  not  away  from  thee  ! 
He  is  thy  image,  my  own  darling  boy — thy  boy,  and, 
whatever  his  mother,  he  is  innocent.  Oh,  how  can 
yon,  good  Master !" 

The  woman  and  child  knelt  before  the  scowling 
man,  who  bit  his  lip,  determined  not  to  yield  to  sen- 
timent, or  listen  to  argument. 

"  We  sail  to-morrow  morning,"  said  he,  disregarding 
her  entreaty.  "  You  must  be  ready  to  accompany  me. 
I  shall  leave  a  sum  sufficient  to  maintain  the  woman 
and  her  boy,  but  I  never  want  you  to  speak  of  them 
after  we  leave  these  wretched  shores." 

Berta  fell  prostrate  on  the  floor,  and  gave  way  to 
noisy  grief.  The  child  looked  on  in  wide-eyed  dismay 
at  the  tumult  of  its  nurse,  when  it  flung  itself  on  her 
body  and  joined  in  her  wailing.  The  Signer  went  to 
the  window  and  turned  his  back  on  the  distracting 
scene. 

The  woman  hushed  her  own  cries  to  soothe  the 
child,  whom  she  took  on  her  lap  and  hugged  to  her 
breast,  consoling  him  with  the  most  endearing  words. 

"Master,"  said  Berta,  softly  and  sorrowfully,  after 


294  TANCREDI. 

she  had  succeeded  in  assuaging  the  grief  of  the 
terrified  boy. 

"  "Well,  Berta,  you  speak ;  what  is  it  you  would 
say?"  exclaimed  the  Signor,  without  turning  from  the 
window. 

"  I  will  stay  with  Car!." 

"As  you  will ;  but  know  well  what  ifc  is  you  do  ; 
you  desert  forever  the  house  which  has  ever  been 
your  home." 

"  God  pity  me  !  I  will  not  desert  thy  child !" 

Tancredi  had  steeled  his  bosom  against  pity,  he 
had  spurned  all  ties  of  blood,  but  when  the  simple 
Berta  braved  his  displeasure  by  defiantly  standing  up 
for  the  innocent  child — his  own  child — his  heart  was 
reached  through  the  stubborn  armor.  He  turned 
from  the  window  to  the  grouping  on  the  floor  with 
more  of  shame  than  anger. 

The  Italians  seem  endowed  with  the  intuition  of 
art.  The  attitude  of  maid  and  child,  with  bodies  bent 
forward  and  hands  stretched  out  in  mute  supplication, 
presented  a  touching  tableau,  to  which  the  Signor 
yielded,  and  he  gathered  the  boy  in  his  arms. 

"  Go,  get  thee  back  to  the  cottage,  mad  Berta  ;  I 
must  bring  you  all  back  to  Italy.  But  not  a  word  to 
Rosetta,  not  a  word.  Do  not  tell  her  I  am  here,  or 
that  you  have  seen  me  to-day.  Not  a  word  to  her,  if 
you  regard  me,  and  do  you  steal  away  with  the  boy 


TANCREDI.  295 

by  daylight  to-morrow  morning,  and  come  to  me. 
Remember,  not  a  word  to  Rosetta ;  leave  her  to  me." 

Berta  promised  obedience,  and,  with  Carl,  went 
home. 

The  next  morning,  Tancredi,  Carl,  and  Berta 
were  taken  on  board  the  ship,  from  where  they  did 
not  stir  till  noon,  when  the  anchor  was  weighed  and 
the}'  were  off  to  sea.  Once  again,  as  before,  Michele 
Tancredi  was  flying  from  Rosetta  Godardo. 

When  Rosetta  came  down  to  breakfast  on  the 
morning  on  which  the  ship  sailed  she  missed  Carl 
and  Berta,  but  thought  little  of  the  fact,  believing 
that  they  had  gone  out  to  take  their  morning  walk. 
But  as  the  day  wore  away  and  the  evening  came  on 
without  news  of  them  she  grew  impatient,  and  when 
the  dark  night  fell  on  the  uncertainty,  she  became 
alarmed  and  distressed.  She  walked  the  floor  the 
whole  night  through,  startled  at  every  sound,  hop- 
ing that  each  noise  betokened  the  return  of  the 
wanderers. 

"When  morning  dawned  she  started  the  one  remain- 
ing servant  out  to  make  inquiries ;  he  returned  at 
noon  without  having  found  the  slightest  trace  of  the 
missing  members.  In  the  afternoon  she  went  to  the 
mayor's  office  in  the  city,  where  she  set  on  foot  an 
organized  search  for  the  lost  maid  and  child. 

She  kept  up  her  search  by  day  and  her  vigils  by 


296  TANCREDI. 

night,  and  as  each  day  and  night  came  and  went  with- 
out tidings  of  the  lost,  she  became  more  and  more 
distressed  and  excited.  The  loss  of  sleep,  abstinence 
from  food,  and  bereavement,  began  to  make  their 
impress  on  her  peculiar  nervous  system,  and  the  wild 
demoniac  look  again  gleamed  from  her  eyes,  presaging 
another  attack  of  acute  mania. 

Her  mind  was  so  absorbed  by  the  mysterious  dis- 
appearance and  the  vain  search,  that  she  thought  of 
little  else,  and  did  not  even  particularly  mark  the  fail- 
ure of  Tancredi  in  making  his  usual  bi-weekly  visits. 
Still,  when  a  whole  week  passed  without  his  appear- 
ance, his  unprecedented  absence  struck  her  as  remark- 
able, and  she  wondered  at  the  circumstance.  She 
believed  that  he  could  aid  her,  besides  she  felt  that  it 
was  her  duty  to  acquaint  him  of  the  loss.  She  started 
immediately  to  Philadelphia. 

When  Madam  Tancredi  became  convinced  of  her 
husband's  infidelity,  she  rapidly  mapped  out  the 
course  proper  to  be  pursued.  She  made  confidents  of 
the  Wallaces,  and  prevailed  on  them  to  keep  her  child 
until  after  the  brewing  storm  had  blown  over,  and 
Tancredi  had  departed  for  Europe.  Kidnapping  was 
entertained  as  a  contingency,  and  to  remove  such  dire 
possibility  it  was  determined  that  Charles  Tancredi 
should  remain  concealed  until  all  danger  was  past. 

When  more  than  a  week  had  elapsed  without  news 


TAXCREDI.  207 

of  her  banished  husband,  she  concluded  that  lie  had 
sailed,  that  the  danger  was  over,  and  she  wrote  her 
cousin  to  send  Charles  and  his  nurse  home  at  once. 

By  one  of  those  coincidences  which  seem  like  inex- 
orable doom,  and  from  which  dire  issues  sometimes 
flow,  Charles  Tancredi  and  his  nurse  were  on  the 
same  train  and  in  the  same  car  which  carried  Kosetta 
Godardo  to  Philadelphia. 

The  two  children,  Charles  Tancredi  and  Carl 
Godardo,  resembled  each  other ;  they  were  nearly  of 
the  same  age,  and  both  were  dark  skinned.  Rosetta, 
whose  keen  eyes  were  ever  on  the  watch,  saw  the 
handsome  child  on  the  seat  next  immediately  in  front 
of  her,  and  was  startled  at  his  resemblance  to  her  own 
lost  child.  She  was  not  long  in  making  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  spry  young  nurse,  and  quickly  established 
the  most  friendly  relations  with  the  child. 

The  nurse  was  young  and  attractive  looking,  was 
giddj-,  fond  of  being  noticed,  and  easily  cajoled.  It 
was  easy  for  Kosetta  to  pump  from  her  all  she  knew. 
^Nothing  is  more  astonishing  than  the  acuteness  of  the 
average  servant  in  detecting  family  secrets.  This 
domestic  could  have  furnished  material  for  a  long 
chapter  of  the  secret  history  of  Tancredi's  domestic 
life,  and  her  facts  would  have  been  fairly  authentic, 
llosetta  gathered  from  her  enough  information  to 
13* 


298  TANCREDI. 

learn  that  Tailored!  had  separated  from  his  wife,  and 
that  he  had  gone  back  to  Italy. 

The  true  state  of  affairs  flashed  through  her 
irritable  brain  like  a  blaze  of  inspiration,  and  she  could 
scarcely  suppress  a  cry  of  anguish.  Tancredi  had 
quarrelled  with  his  wife  on  her,  Kosetta's,  account,  he 
had  gone  home  to  Italy  never  to  return,  he  had 
deserted  her  and  had  taken  away  with  him  her  own 
child,  Carl,  along  with  Berta.  Tancredi,  the  Betrayer ! 
Berta,  tho  Child  Stealer ! 

Her  first  impulse  was  to  turn  back  and  hunt  the 
traitors  down  ;  her  next  thought  was  to  slay  this  child 
now  reposing  in  her  lap — this,  his  own  child — kill 
him,  and  be  revenged  ! 

The  pleased  child  twined  its  dimpled  arms  about 
her  neck  and  toyed  with  the  necklace  at  her  throat ;  it 
looked  up  in  her  face  in  smiles,  as  would  her  own 
darling,  were  he  nestling  on  her  bosom.  Kill  thee  ? 
Sweet  one !  No  I  Thou  art  not  thy  perfidious 
father ! 

She  had  been  robbed  of  her  child,  why  not  rob 
Madam  Tancredi  of  her  child?  Why  not  steal  him. 
and  square  the  account  with  Tancredi  who  had  stolen 
her  child  ?  Why  not  carry  this  child  away  where  it 
would  learn  to  love  her,  and  console  her  for  her  loss  ? 

Revenge  incited  and  opportunity  pointed  out  the 
road. 


TANCREDL  299 

The  caution  and  cunning,  sometimes  so  marked  in 
the  insane,  guided  her  in  the  sudden  project  and 
muffled  the  storm  raging  in  her  breast. 

She  applied  herself  to  the  task  of  pleasing  the  child 
and  cajoling  the  maid.  The  former  took  kindly  to  the 
woman  with  the  musical  voice  and  the  glittering  jewel 
at  her  throat,  while  the  nurse  willingly  surrendered 
her  charge  to  the  clever  fellow  passenger,  and  gave  her 
attention  to  the  flirtation  carried  on  between  her  and 
two  young  men  seated  in  front  of  her. 

"  Why,  only  see  how  soundly  Charles  is  sleeping  !" 
she  exclaimed,  looking  around  to  see  the  child  resting 
quietly  on  the  lap  of  the  strange  woman. 

The  seat  occupied  by  Kosetta  was  near  the  rear 
door.  The  train  stopped  at  a  station  as  it  neared 
Philadelphia. 

The  woman,  holding  the  sleeping  child  in  her  arms, 
arose  from  her  seat,  while  her  gleaming  eyes  watched 
the  occupied  nurse  in  front  of  her. 

She  stepped  into  the  aisle. 

She  glided  to  the  doorway,  and  stood  on  the  plat- 
form outside.  The  conductor  assisted  her  to  alight. 

The  bell  rang,  the  wheels  revolved,  and  the  train 
moved  off,  leaving  her  standing  on  the  station  plat- 
form with  the  sleeping  boy  in  her  arms. 

She  turned  toward  the  North  and  disappeared 
among  the  green  lanes  of  the  country. 


300  TANCREDI. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

"0  Vengeance,  take  me  all, — I'm  wholly  thine." 

As  THE  train  approached  the  West  Philadelphia 
depot,  the  passengers  began  that  fidgetty  stir  of  prepa- 
ration peculiar  to  American  assemblages  when  Hearing 
the  end  of  the  play,  the  lecture  or  the  journey,  and 
which  suggests  the  uncomfortable  feeling  that  they 
should  have  remained  at  home,  and  not  come  out  to 
annoy  better  mannered  people. 

When  the  train  stopped,  and  the  flirting  nurse 
looked  around  to  resume  her  charge, — lo,  the  seat  was 
empty  ! 

In  trepidation  she  searched  for  Charles  through  the 
cars  in  vain ;  the  boy  and  the  strange  woman  were  not 
to  be  found.  While  running  about,  thoroughly  fright- 
ened, she  came  across  the  conductor,  who  learned  the 
cause  of  her  distress.  He  told  her  that  the  strange 
woman  had  alighted  with  the  boy  at  a  station  just  out- 
side of  the  city.  This  was  terrible  news  to  carry  to 
Madam  Tancredi,  who  was  waiting  close  by  in  a  car- 
riage to  receive  the  darling  of  her  heart. 

"  O  Madam,  forgive  me !     But  Charles  is  lost !" 


TANCREDI.  301 

exclaimed  the  terrified  girl,  alarmed  anew  at  sight  of 
her  mistress. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  girl ;  and  where  is  Charles  ?" 
asked  Madam  in  eager  alarm. 

"  Madam,  there  is  some  mistake,  and,  I  trust,  only 
a  mistake,"  said  the  conductor,  coming  forward  and 
making  himself  known.  "  I  saw  the  woman  with  the 
child  sleeping  in  her  lap,  and  1  supposed  that  she  was 
its  mother  and  this  girl  the  nurse ;  so,  when  she  got 
off  at  the  station  a  few  miles  back  from  here  with  the 
child,  I  thought  nothing  strange,  and  I  offered  no 
objection,  but  assisted  her  to  alight.  I  feel  confident 
that  she  meant  no  harm  to  the  child,  and  that  she  will 
be  speedily  found  and  your  child  restored  to  you." 

"  Please  describe  as  near  as  you  can  her  appear- 
ance," she  requested  of  the  conductor. 

"  She  was  small,  quick-motioned,  dark-skinned, 
very  handsome,  and  she  had  the  blackest  eyes  I  ever 
saw." 

The  look  of  anguish  deepened  on  Madam's  face  as 
she  heard  the  conductor  describe  the  person  of  Rosetta 
Godardo,  the  person  of  all  others  she  detested,  the 
person  of  all  others  into  whose  keeping  she  most 
dreaded  to  trust  her  child.  She  mastered  her  feelings 
so  well,  however,  that  of  all  the  group  of  listeners  she 
was  the  most  self-possessed. 

During  the  whole  of  the  past  week,  her  mind  had 


302  TAHCHEDL 

been  tortured  with  the  dread  that  her  husband  might 
attempt  to  get  possession  of  Charles,  his  and  her  son. 
After  his  damnable  treachery,  she  believed  him  capa- 
ble of  any  villainy.  And  now  the  boy  was  missing — 
stolen  by  his  mistress  and  accomplice,  Tancredi  was, 
then,  still  in  New  York,  (so  she  believed)  where  he 
had  laid  his  plot,  and  from  where  he  had  sent  out  his 
paramour  and  companion  in  guilt,  to  kidnap  his  son, 
Charles  Tancredi. 

What  other  hypothesis  would  account  for  the 
abduction  ?  Who  besides  the  father  would  have  any 
interest  in  stealing  the  boy  ?  What  other  person 
could  possibly  have  a  motive  for  the  deed?  There 
was  but  one  person  in  all  the  world  that  could  have 
any  interest  in  the  abduction,  and  that  person  was  the 
boy's  father,  Michele  Tancredi.  He  had,  then,  not 
sailed  for  Europe,  but  was  lingering  in  ]$Tew  York 
that  he  might  get  possession  of  his  son  to  carry  him 
away  to  Italy. 

The  plan  of  action  she  hastily  planned  was  based 
on  this  theory.  She  saw  hopes  of  yet  defeating  his 
plot,  and  she  lost  no  time  in  useless  lament,  but 
started  detectives  on  the  trail  at  once.  She  drove 
direct  to  the  station  where  the  Godardo  had  alighted. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear,  and  unfortunate  as  it 
was,  none  of  the  residents  at  or  about  the  country  sta- 
tion had  seen  the  woman  or  child,  and  hence  no  clue 


TANCREDI.  308 

could  be  had  of  the  direction  taken  by  the  fugitives. 
The  detectives  decided,  (they  always  decide,  and  often 
as  in  this  case,  wrongly)  that  she  had  entered  the 
city — the  decision  acted  on  by  them.  A  sharp  look- 
out was  kept  for  her  at  the  railway  stations,  and  indus- 
trious search  was  made  high  and  low  throughout  the 
city. 

On  the  next  morning  after  the  kidnapping,  news 
was  brought  that  the  child  was  found  in  a  village  up 
the  Delaware,  where  he  was  held  for  identification. 
"When  the  mother  reached  the  place  the  child  was 
already  restored  to  its  parents. 

Madam  Tancredi  was  confidently  assured  by  the 
detectives  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  the  child- 
stealer  to  escape  arrest.  But  when  the  evening  of  the 
second  day  came  without  the  slightest  additional  clue, 
she  became  impatient,  and  despatched  detectives  to 
watch  the  movements  of  Tancredi  in  New  York. 

There  it  was  learned,  from  his  bankers  and  from 
other  sources,  that  the  Signor  had  actually  sailed  for 
Europe  in  company  with  a  woman  and  child,  the  lat- 
ter answering  the  description  of  Charles  Taucredi. 
Indeed,  one  of  the  officers  of  the  bank  had  heard  the 
woman  call  the  boy  Carl. 

When  this  report  was  made  to  Madam  Tancredi, 
she  was  convinced  that  her  husband  had  succeeded  in 
escaping  with  her  child,  and  that  he  was  already  far 


304  TANCREDI. 

out  at  sea  beyond  the  possibility  of  rescue.  Accord- 
ingly she  called  off  the  detectives  and  gave  up  what 
was  now  a  useless  search. 

The  reader  is  now  in  possession  of  two  links  which , 
have  places  somewhere  in  the  chain  of  this  story. 
One  link  is  the  maniac  woman  who  died  at  the  miller's 
cottage,  leaving  the  child,  Jarl ;  the  other  link  is 
Hosetta  Godardo,  the  maniac  avenger,  who  fled  into 
the  wilderness  with  Charles  Tancredi,  the  lawful  heir 
of  her  betrayer,  Signer  Michele  Tancredi. 

Poor  lost  woman  of  the  fiery  blood  and  heart  of 
passion !  Life  to  thee  was  a  pendulum  swinging 
between  joy  and  despair.  The  grave  none  too  soon 
gave  repose  to  thy  turbulent  spirit. 

Forgive  her  !  Magdalene  was  the  last  at  the  cross. 
Forgive  her !  Magdalene  was  the  first  at  the  resur- 
rection. Forgive  her,  for, 

"  Though  justice  be  thy  plea,  consider  this, 
That  in  the  course  of  justice  none  of  us 

Should  see  salvation." 

Madam  Tancredi  had  found  her  child,  but  found 
him  lost  to  her,  and  months  must  elapse  before  lie 
could  be  restored.  The  proud  woman  was  severely 
broken  by  the  long  continued  disquiet,  which  reached 
its  climax  on  the  abduction  of  the  darling  of  her  heart, 
and  for  weeks  she  lay  prostrated  with  grief  and  illness. 


TANCKEDI.  805 

When  her  health  was  improved,  she  wrote  and  mailed 
to  Naples  the  following  letter  : 

MICHELE  TANCEEDI. 

Signor :  You  have  robbed  a  mother  of  her  child. 
It  was  the  only  thing  she  had  to  love  in  all  this  whole 
world,  and  she  is  deprived  of  it  by  you.  By  this  time 
you  should  feel  sufficiently  avenged.  Surely  you  can- 
not, will  not,  be  so  lost  to  pity  as  to  prolong  a  mother's 
agony.  What  sacrifice  will  you  name  as  the  price  of 
his  restoration  to  his  distracted  mother  ? 

ALICE  TANCBEDI. 

After  a  tedious  and  harrowing  wait,  she  got  the 
following  reply  : 

MADAM  ALICE  TANCKEDI. 

The  boy  is  with  me.  Nothing  will  induce  me  to 
restore  him  to  his  mother,  but  your  forgiveness  and 
our  reconciliation.  M.  TANCKEDI. 

Strong  as  was  her  love  for  her  child  her  indigna- 
tion toward  her  husband  was  stronger  still.  She  could 
not  bring  herself  to  condone  his  crime,  even  to  satisfy 
the  cravings  of  maternal  instinct.  The  martyrdom  of 
a  childless  life  would  be,  if  not  less  endurable,  at  least 
more  honorable  than  the  reconciliation  given  in 
exchange  for  what  was  every  mother's  right — the  right 
to  possess  and  care  for  her  own  child. 


306  TANCREDI. 

In  character  and  temperament  Alice  Tancrcdi 
was  heroic,  and  of  that  quality  of  heroism  requisite  in 
the  absolute  monarch.  What  she  set  her  mind  on  waa 
made  a  part  of  her  life.  She  took  no  backward  steps 
— she  never  retreated,  for  she  always  burnt  her  ships 
behind  her. 

Love  for  her  husband  had  gone  out  in  hate  ;  she 
hated  his  name,  loathed  his  sin,  and  despised  the  num. 
Any  relationship  with  him,  even  of  a  compulsory 
nature,  was  an  unmitigated  evil.  She  had  cast  him 
off  forever ;  and  now,  to  regain  her  child  by  forgive- 
ness and  reconciliation,  was,  to  her  mind,  little  short 
of  condonement  of  his  sin,  and  justification  of  his 
treacheiy.  The  idea  of  even  indirectly  palliating  his 
guilt,  or  screening  him  from  punishment,  was,  to  her, 
revolting,  criminal  and  impossible. 

Of  course  she  was  ignorant  of  the  existence  of  her 
husband's  extra  marital  son.  She  was  under  the  delu- 
sion that  he  had  taken  away  his  and  her  son,  who  was 
stolen  from  the  cars  by  the  Godardo,  and  that  Charles 
T-ancredi,  her  son,  was  now  in  Italy. 

She  might  possibly  have  entertained  his  proposition 
if  his  sinning  had  ceased  on  his  expulsion  from  her 
home ;  but  when  he  super-added  to  the  crime  of  child- 
stealing,  that  of  flagrant  criminal  relationship  with  the 
singing  woman,  his  partner  in  gm'lt,  she  rejected  his 
proposition  as  addecl  Insult  to  injury.  Tancredi's  let- 


TANCREDI.  307 

ter,  instead  of  mollifying  her  displeasure,  only  served 
to  intensify  her  indignation,  and  confirm  her  in  her 
determination  to  show  no  quarter  to  the  unscrupulous 
and  shameless  villian. 

Signer  Tancredi,  very  naturally  on  his  part,  was 
ignorant  of  the  abduction  of  his  own  son,  Charles 
Tancredi.  By  the  peculiar  construction  of  his  wife's 
letter,  he  got  the  impression  that  Rosetta  Godardo  was 
the  "  distracted  mother  "  referred  to,  and  that  on  miss- 
ing her  child,  she  had  gone  in  her  despair  to  Madam 
Tancredi,  whom  she  had  succeeded  in  enlisting  to  in- 
tercede for  the  restoration  of  the  child,  Carl  Godardo. 

If  either  letter  had  been  less  cold  and  formal,  if 
either  had  been  written  with  the  candor  becoming  the 
husband  and  wife,  the  mistake  would  have  been  pre- 
vented, and  the  evil  which  befel  Charles  Tancredi 
would  never  have  followed.  The  penalty  of  the 
parent's  stubborn  wrong  fell  like  a  blight  on  the  young 
outcast. 

Time  with  its  corroding  breath  scattered  the  rust 
of  estrangement  through  the  sombre  halls  of  the  Tan- 
credi. The  woman  sat  defiant  among  the  ashes  of 
bereavement,  while  the  man  stood  among  the  desolate 
altars  like  a  stubborn  statue  of  remorse.  Pride  and 
guilt  allied  to  roll  an  ocean  between  the  husband  and 
wife ;  across  the  dark  waters  a  mother's  love  brooded 


303  TANCREDI. 

like  the  spirit  of  light  moving  on  the  chaotic  sea  of  a 
world  just  born. 

Four  years  passed  away  with  their  ebb  and  flow  of 
joy  and  sorrow.  During  all  this  time  Madam  Tan- 
credi  had  not  ceased  her  importunate  demands  for  the 
restoration  of  her  child.  Nearly  every  ship  bore  a 
request  to  the  father  and  some  token  of  endearment  to 
her  darling  boy.  But  she  stubbornly  maintained  her 
unswerving  opposition  to  her  husband,  while  he  was 
as  unyielding  in  his  exactions  as  ever.  Of  course  it 
was  impossible  that  he  should  have  received  so  many 
impassioned  letters  from  his  wife  without  having  dis- 
covered that  his  and  her  son  was  actually  stolen  and 
lost.  He  also  knew  that  it  was — must  have  been — the 
work  of  the  Godardo,  who  did  it  to  revenge  herself  on 
him. 

None  but  this  father  can  realize  what  were  the 
fealings  that  rankled  in  his  remorseful  breast  when  ho 
learned  the  awful  truth.  He  had  robbed  a  mother  of 
her  child,  that  mother  had  retaliated  by  robbing  him 
of  his  child.  And,  horrible  to  think,  he  must  hold  his 
peace !  Let  imagination,  if  it  likes,  complete  the  har- 
rowing picture. 

What  could  the  guilt-stricken  man  now  do  to  right 
the  wrong?  If  he  told  his  wife  the  truth  it  would  be 
at  the  further  expense  of  honor  already  almost  bank- 
rupt. His  wife  knew  nothing  cf  the  existence  of 


TANCREDI.  309 

Carl  Godardo ;  she  believed  that  the  latter  was  her 
real  son.  No  good,  but  much  evil  might  result  if  she 
were  told  of  the  infamous  story.  He  kept  his  secret. 

He  wrote  to  his  confidential  agent  in  Kew  York, 
asking  information  concerning  the  Godardo,  and 
instructing  him  to  discover  her  whereabouts.  Gone, 
no  one  knew  whither,  was  the  answer. 

Berta  received  her  instructions,  she  would  keep  the 
secret  inviolate.  If  Madam  Tancredi  ever  discovered 
the  truth  about  her  son,  it  would  be  at  her  husband's 
option. 

After  four  years  of  failure  to  recover  her  child, 
and  no  longer  able  to  endure  the  pangs  of  separation, 
she  determined  to  visit  Naples,  and  try  her  personal 
presence  and  influence  on  the  obdurate  father. 

She  notified  him  of  her  proposed  journey,  to  which 
he  made  no  objection  ;  indeed  he  rather  encouraged 
her  visit,  and  fitted  up  his  beautiful  villa  for  her 
reception  during  her  stay  in  Italy. 

At  first,  for  a  week  or  two  of  her  sojourn  at  the 
villa,  the  anticipated  joy  at  meeting  and  enjoying  her 
child  was  scarcely  realized.  She  was,  however,  solaced 
with  the  reflection  that  he  had  been  taken  from  her  at 
the  tender  age  of  three,  and  had  not  seen  her  for  four 
years.  Little  wonder  that  he  had  forgetten  her  !  But 
she  devoted  herself  so  heartily  to  his  service  that  in  a 
month's  time  the  little  fellow  came  to  accept  her 


310  TANCREDI. 

caresses,  and  was  reconciled  to  the  companionship  of 
the  new  mamma,  who  spoke  in  a  language  he  could  not 
understand.  Before  two  months  had  passed  he  was 
pleased  to  bestow  much  of  his  affection  on  the  grati- 
fied mother. 

The  discreet  and  disciplined  Berta  stood  by  and 
gazed  on  the  pair  with  an  expression  well  suited  to  her 
office. 

"  Don't  yon  think,  nurse,  that  my  child  has  grown 
much  darker-skinned  since  he  came  to  Italy  ?"  asked 
Madam  Alice  of  Berta. 

"  Yes,  Madam  ;  it's  the  hot  climate ;  the  bright 
sun  it  is.  Dear  Carl !  he  loves  the  sunlight  so  well ! 
Why,  he  was  ever  ou  doors  before  you  came." 

"  Don't  he  know  any  English,  whatever  ?  He  could 
speak  many  English  words  before  he  left  me." 

"  No  one  English  speak  him.  He  not  hear  much 
of  that  some  four  years." 

"  Nurse,"  said  Madam,  on  another  occasion,  "  tell 
me,  for  I  have  no  one  else  to  ask,  where  is  the  woman, 
Godardo  2" 

"Madam,  I  know  not.  My  master  has  seen  her 
not  since  from  your  house  in  Philadelphia  he  came 
away." 

"  Why  will  you  try  to  deceive  me  ?" 

"  I  deceive  you  not ;  I  tell  you  true ;  my  master 
thinks  her  dead." 


TANCKEDI.  811 

"Do  you  tell  me  that  she  did  not  come  away  with 
your  master  to  Italy  ?  Will  you  tell  me  that  it  was 
not  she  who  stole  my  child  ?" 

"  Indeed,  Madam,  she  came  not  then,  nor  at  any 
time  since.  It  was  I  who  came  away  with  master." 

"Yon?  But  it  was  not  you  who  stole  my  child 
from  the  cars ;  it  was  the  Godardo.  The  description 
I  got  at  the  time  was  too  clear  to  mistake  her  identity." 

"  That  may  be,  Madam,  but  I  solemnly  swear  that 
Carl  came  over  with  master  and  me,  and  that  the 
Godardo  came  not.  This  I  swear ;  help  me  all  saints  !" 

The  puzzled  woman  pondered  over  the  new  infor- 
mation for  days.  If  Berta  spoke  the  truth,  the  sub- 
ject stood  in  another  light,  and  her  harsh  judgment 
demanded  revision.  If  it  turned  out  that  Tancrcdi  had 
not  been  and  was  not  now  harboring  the  woman  who 
was  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble,  then  she  could  believe 
that,  while  he  was  bad  enough,  he  was  not  so  utterly 
depraved  as  she  had  held  him  to  be. 

She  had  not  met  her  husband  since  her  arrival  at 
Naples..  She  gave  him  credit  for  his  tact  and  delicacy 
in  this.  She  requested  an  interview. 

The  Signor  came  at  once. 

"  I  sent  for  you,"  said  the  cold  woman,  without 
looking  at  him,  "  to  ask  if  you  will  permit  my  child  to 
return  home  with  me  ?" 


312  TANCREDI. 

"  Will  you  return  so  soon  ?"  he  asked,  politely,  bnt 
evasively. 

"I  prefer  to  return  immediately.  Outside  my 
child  there  is  nothing  to  detain  me  here." 

"  Say  not  that !  My  sister,  Signora  Adelaide,  will 
be  most  happy  to  meet  you.  She  is  absent  on  a  visit 
to  Sicily,  but  we  expect  her  home  at  any  time,  and 
she  may  be  here  to-day.  If  you  depart  before  she 
returns  she  will  be  sadly  disappointed." 

"  Your  good  sister  and  I  cannot  be  as  we  once  were  ; 
misfortune  such  as  mine  cools  friendship." 

"  My  sister  will  persist  in  loving  you  as  she  ever 
did,  since  there  is  no  cause  why  she  should  not.  Your 
misfortune — pardon  me,  our  misfortune — will  not  cool 
her  friendship  for  you." 

"  But  the  child — will  you  give  me  your  answer?" 

"  My  answer  you  already  have  ;  why  repeat  it  ?" 

"  Tour  answer  !  1  think  you  mean  your  terms, — 
forgiveness — reconciliation." 

"  Ah,  Madam,  do  you  count  those  terms  so  hard  ? 
And  hard  they  must  be  when  they  separate  you  from 
your  child !" 

The  wife  sat  with  head  bowed  down  for  a  long 
time  in  silent  thought.  Tancredi  made  no  move  to 
disturb  her  reverie. 

"  Where  is  that  vile  woman  who  stole  my  child, 


TANCREDI.  813 

the  woman  who  caused  all  this  trouble  ?"  she  suddenly 
asked,  gazing  for  the  first  time  at  her  husband. 

"  As  God  is  my  judge,  I  know  not.  I  have  not 
seen  her — have  not  even  heard  of  her  since  I  left  New 
York,  and  I  believe  her  dead." 

"  It  was  she  who  stole  my  child." 

"  Alas  that  that  crime  should  come  between  ns ! 
Is  there  not  enough  without  that  spectre  of  the  past  ? 
Let  it  be  buried  from  our  sight  forever.  I  have 
expressed  my  profound  sorrow  for  the  wrong  done 
you,  and  for  the  grief  you  have  borne ;  I  do  so  again, 
and  ask  you  to  forgive  me." 

"  Who  ordered  her  to  steal  my  child  2" 

The  husband  made  no  reply. 

"  Was  it  you  2" 

The  Signor  was  silent. 

"  Since  you  will  not  tell  me,  I  shall  hold  you 
responsible  for  the  crime." 

"  I  cannot  answer  your  question." 

"  Then  I  shall  return  home,  childless,  as  I  came," 
said  the  wife,  sorrowfully,  as  she  arose  and  terminated 
the  interview  by  walking  slowly  and  sadly  away. 

It  has  already  been  shown  that  Signora  Adelaide 
was  not  always  partial  to  her  brother's  acts,  although 
strongly  attached  to  him  as  a  brother.  II is  relations 
to  the  cantatriee  had  always  been  the  cause  of  dissen- 
sion between  them,  and  the  source  of  much  grief  to 
14 


314  TANCREDI. 

her.  The  sister  was  not  aware  of  all,  nor  the  half,  of 
his  heinous  conduct,  which  resulted  in  the  separation 
from  his  wife  ;  she  knew  nothing  of  the  two  boys,  and 
never  dreamed  that  the  child  now  in  her  brother's 
possession,  was  other  than  he  was  represented,  the 
child  of  Madam  Alice  Tancredi.  She  knew  enough, 
however,  to  feel  convinced  that  her  brother  was 
almost  wholly  to  blame  in  the  case,  and  that  her  sister- 
in-law  was  a  wronged  woman. 

She  therefore  entered  the  presence  of  Madam 
Alice  strongly  prejudiced  in  her  favor.  The  meeting 
was  characterized  by  great  tenderness  on  the  part  of 
both  ladies.  At  first  the  American  was  cold  and  cau- 
tious, but  she  could  not  long  withstand  the  sunny 
warmth  and  mesmeric  kindness  that  beamed  in  the 
face  and  thrilled  in  the  voice  of  Adelaide,  and  before 
she  was  willing,  Alice  melted  down  in  alternate  tears 
and  smiles,  which  banished  all  reserve. 

Of  course  their  talk  was  on  the  subject  uppermost 
in  their  minds.  It  is  impossible  to  give  their  methods 
or  tell  how  they  reached  agreement — such  was  the 
delicate  tact  of  the  one,  and  the  charming  complai- 
sance of  the  other;  but  they  did  arrive  at  a  conclusion 
that  was  satisfactory  all  around.  They  agreed  that  it 
would  be  best  for  all  concerned  to  terminate  the 
unfortunate  quarrel  by  forgiveness  and  reconciliation. 


TANCREDI.  313 

The  long  estranged  husband  and  wife  were  re- 
united, and  returned  to  Philadelphia  with  the  child, 
where  they  settled  down  to  tranquil  content,  if  not  to 
unalloyed  bliss. 


316  TANCREDI. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

"  I  am  constant  as  the  northern  star, 
Of  whose  true,  fixed,  and  resting  quality 
There  is  no  fellow  in  the  firmament." 

"  TAPLAN,  what  do  you  say  to  a  trip  across  the 
Alleghenies?  I  have  a  friend  in  Pittsburgh  who  has 
been  writing  to  me  to  come  out  there,  and  I've  sent  him 
word  I'll  go.  He  tells  me  I'm  sure  of  a  good  berth  at 
good  wages.  "What  do  you  say,  old  friend,  will  you  go 
along,  as  the  spider  said  to  the  fly  ?" 

Thus  spoke  Martin  Haley  to  John  Taplan,  as  they 
lounged  about  the  Battery  one  afternoon.  The  person 
addressed  looked  up  as  if  he  were  not  sure  the  talk  was 
meant  for  him,  and  even  then  he  seemed  to  have  for- 
gotten what  was  said,  for  he  made  no  reply. 

Haley  spoke  again. 

"  My  friend  tells  me  the  coal  trade  on  the  Ohio 
river  is  a  big  thing,  and  growin'  bigger  every  year. 
It  gives  good  berths  for  first-class  boatman,  and  he  says 
anybody  willing  to  grow  up  with  the  trade  will  get 
rich.  Now,  I'm  goin'  there ;  I'm  gottin'  tired  of  the 
sea,  an'll  try  my  luck  on  a  western  steamboat.  Come, 
what  do  you  say,  will  you  go  along  ?" 


TANCREDI-  817 

"Me?  Go  along?  That's  good!  Best  I  ever 
heard  !  Couldn't  pay  my  ferriage  to  the  Jersey  shore  1" 

"  Oh,  never  mind  the  money,  as  the  lion  said  to  the 
lamb.  I've  lots,  and  enough  for  us  both  ;  the  thing  is, 
will  you  go  ?" 

"Yes."       . 

"  I  want  you  along  to  take  care  of  me,  for  I  might 
get  sick,  as  the  monkey  said  to  the  sugar.  Too  many 
people  know  me  here,  and  I'm  goin'  to  the  dogs.  I'm 
goin'  out  there  to  begin  life  on  the  new,  as  Jonah  said 
to  the—" 

"Didn't  I  say  I'm  going  along?" 

"That's  the  way  to  talk,  old  Jack!  I  was  sure 
you  wouldn't  go  back  on  your  old  mate.  You  must 
have  a  travelin'  suit ;  that  jacket  ain't  fit  for  a  travel- 
in'  man  ;  you  need  a  trosser,  as  the  young  woman  said. 
We're  a  goin'  on  a  weddin'  trip.  Let's  see  what 
Moses  has  in  the  toggery  line  ;  come  along." 

The  two  companions  entered  a  clothing  shop, 
where  John  was  fitted  to  a  bran  new  suit — the  "  tros- 
ser "  alluded  to  by  Haley.  The  new  coat  on,  like  the 
king's  shilling  accepted,  confirmed  the  bargain  between 
Haley  and  Taplan.  After  he  had  squirmed  a  few  times 
to  familiarize  himself  with  the  unusual  sensation  of 
wearing  a  new  and  complete  suit,  he  announced  him- 
self as  ready  for  the  "  weddin'  trip." 

"  This  evenin'  at  eight  sharp,  we  start ;  and  be  on 


318  TANCREDI. 

deck,  old  man,  for  I  won't  go  without  you,  as  the  thief 
said  to  the  policeman." 

John  buttoned  up  the  new  coat  and  nodded,  as 
much  as  to  say,  no  back  out  here  ;  I'll  be  on  deck. 

"  And,  Jack,"  said  Haley,  in  a  confidential  voice, 
taking  hold  of  the  lapel  of  John's  coat,  and  drawing 
him  aside,  in  the  most  mysterious  manner. 

Someone  came  along,  and  Haley  coughed,  as  if  sur- 
prised in  some  questionable  trick.  He  waited  till  the 
intruder  passed  out  of  hearing. 

"  See,  here,  Jack,"  he  resumed,  in  the  same  cau- 
tious manner  of  half  fear,  half  dread,  as  if  hesitating 
to  speak  of  further  contingencies  of  the  co-partnership, 
contingencies  unpleasant  but  unavoidable ;  "See  here, 
Jack!" 

"  My,  God,  are  you  dying  ?" 

«  No." 

"  What's  up,  then  ?" 

"  Let's  understand  each  other,  old  shipmate." 

"  Something  bad  ?     Speak  out." 

"No— .more — wins — kee  !"  whispered  Haley  in 
Jack's  ear. 

"  There,  I  knew  it  was  something  bad ;  I  could 
see  it  in  your  face.  No  more  whiskey !  Why,  that's 
worse  than  dying." 

"No  more  grog,  Jack." 

"What!      None?    No!     You    don't     mean     it! 


TANCREDI.  319 

That's  too  little  by  a  jugful!  Can't  stand  it!" 
exclaimed  Taplan,  beginning  to  unbutton  the  coat. 

"Well,  what  do  yon  call  enough  2"  asked  Haley, 
with  very  pale  face. 

"  Sixteen  drinks  a  day,"  promptly  answered  the 
junior  partner  with  the  ready  air  of  one  who  computes 
by  carefully  prepared  statistics. 

"  How  can  you  manage  to  get  outside  sixteen 
drinks  in  one  day  ?" 

"  By  system  in  your  work  and  strict  attention  to 
business." 

"  What  is  your  system  ?" 

"  One  for  an  eye-opener,  and  one  before  breakfast. 
Are  you  keeping  count  2" 

"  Yes  ;  that's  two." 

"  One  to  settle  your  hash,  and  two  in  the  forenoon. 
Score." 

"  That's  five." 

"  One  before  dinner,  one  after  for  a  hasher,  and 
three  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon.  Tally." 

"  That's  ten." 

"  One  before,  one  after  supper,  and  three  friendly 
social  snifters  in  the  evening.  That's  sixteen  Joe- 
rums,  if  I  understand  figures.  Is  that  what  you  make 
it  ?" 

"  Only  fifteen,  Jack  ;  but  enough." 

"Hold  on,  hold  on.      There's  a  cheat  somewhere. 


820  TANCREDI. 

I  forgot  my  night-cap.  That  makes  sixteen  square, 
honest  drinks,  if  I've  kept  a  careful  account,  and  none 
to  spare." 

"  That's  too  much." 

"  Just  in  time !  I'm  glad  you  spoke  before  things 
went  too  far  ;  you  might  have  got  me  into  trouble," 
exclaimed  Taplan,  pulling  off  the  coat,  evidently  with 
the  intention  of  resuming  his  old  jacket  and  his  inde- 
pendence. 

"  Hold  on,  Jack ;  don't  go  for  to  make  a  beast  of 
yourself,"  exclaimed  Haley,  growing  red  in  the  face, 
and  catching  hold  of  Jack's  arm  to  prevent  him  from 
drawing  the  only  arm  remaining  in  the  sleeve. 

"Sixteen  drinks  a  day  don't  make  a  beast.  Why, 
you  must  think  I'm  cast-iron  to  stand  such  a  blow  as 
that  would  give  me.  I'm  weak  enough,  now.  I'll 
have  the  man  with  the  poker  after  me  if  you  cut  off 
my  grog  sudden  like  that !" 

"  Make  it  a  drink  before  meals ;  that's  a  plenty  for 
a  travelin'  business  man." 

"  What  if  I  break  down,  will  you  bear  the 
blame?" 

"  I'll  take  kear  of  you,  as  the  hawk  said  to  the 
dove." 

John  stood  for  some  time  looking  down  at  the  new 
coat,  partly  clinging  to  his  left  arm  and  partly  drag- 
ging on  the  floor,  as  if  it  were  weakly  pleading  the 


TANCREDI.  321 

course  of  sobriety,  and  then  he  cast  a  briefer  glance  at 
the  calm  old  jacket  lying  on  the  counter,  as  if  in  a 
drunken  sleep.  John  took  brief  time  with  the  old 
garment,  perhaps  because  it  was  a  familiar  study. 
The  outcome  of  his  reverie  was  the  offer  of  a  compro- 
mise. 

"  Make  it  a  night-cap  in,  and  it's  a  bargain,"  said 
Jack,  very  quietly,  but  earnestly. 

"  Well,  night-cap  it  is.  That's  four  drinks  a  day  ; 
honor  bright,  now,  Taplan,  as  the  thief  said  to  his 
mate." 

"  Honor !"  exclaimed  the  poor  inebriate,  as  he 
crossed  his  breast  to  solemnize  his  vow.  He  proceeded 
to  re-adjust  the  critical  coat  to  his  bloated  body. 

u  Here,  Moses,  is  the  cash  for  the  trosser,"  said 
Haley,  counting  down  the  sum.  "We  come  pooty 
near  purchasing  elsewhere  before  we  looked  at  your 
goods." 

The  two  men,  Haley  and  Taplan  settled  down  at 
Pittsburgh,  where  they  found  no  difficulty  in  obtain- 
ing employment  on  one  of  the  steamers  or  tugs,  used 
to  tow  coal  barges  to  and  from  the  south  and  south- 
west markets.  The  boat  on  which  they  shipped  was 
owned  by  Frederick  Kellim. 

The  constant  and  laborious  employment,  together 
with  the  impossibility  of  obtaining  grog  for  two  and 
three  week  voyages,  straightened  up  John  Tuplan,  to 
14* 


822  TA-NCREDI. 

use  Haley's  expression.  He  soon  looked  much 
improved.  Before  many  months,  Taplan  attracted 
the  favorable  notice  of  Rellim,  who  gave  him  the 
superintendency  of  his  local  business  about  the  wharves 
and  landings  hi  Pittsburgh.  He  was  sometimes 
required  to  visit  Kellim's  country  residence  on  busi- 
ness connected  with  the  coal  trade. 

While  on  his  way  to  the  latter  place  on  one  occa- 
sion, and  while  passing  the  old  mill,  he  was  attracted 
by  cries  of  distress  coming  from  the  direction  of  the 
mill  race,  where  he  ran  and  saw  a  young  woman 
wringing  her  hands  and  crying  lustily. 

He  saw  at  a  glance  the  cause  of  her  distress ;  a 
child  had  fallen  into  the  swift  stream,  and  was  rapidly 
drifting  toward  the  floodgate,  through  which  it  would 
be  drawn  and  broken  on  the  ponderous  revolving 
wheel,  unless  immediately  rescued. 

To  spring  into  the  water  and  drag  the  urchin  out 
from  the  very  vortex  of  the  whirlpool  was  the  work  of 
a  moment.  He  handed  the  half-drowned  lad  out  to  the 
37oung  woman,  who  clasped  him  in  her  arms  and  fled  to 
the  house,  leaving  Taplan  to  scramble  out  as  best  he 
might.  He  crawled  out  of  the  flood,  shook  himself 
like  a  Newfoundland  dog,  and  resumed  his  journey. 

On  his  return  he  was  intercepted  by  the  miller, 
who  had  learned  of  Jarl's  mishap  and  his  rescue  by 
Rellim's  sailor,  as  Taplan  was  called. 


TANCREDI.  323 

"  Give  us  a  shake,  my  friend  ?"  said  Jackman, 
reaching  out  one  hand,  while  he  held  the  gate  ajar  with 
the  other.  "  You  must  excuse  Prudy  ;  she  was  so 
shook  up  she  didn't  know  which  end  was  up.  Excuse 
her." 

John  shook  hands  and  "  excused  "  Prudy  on  the 
spot ;  but  nothing  would  do  Nate  but  the  sailor's 
entrance  into  the  cottage,  where  he  shook  hands  with 
Prudence,  and  attempted  to  nurse  the  resuscitated  Jarl 
on  his  wet  knee. 

Jarl  objected  to  the  wet  seat — he  had  had  enougk 
moisture  in  his  for  a  day.  This  started  Nate  to 
hunt  up  his  Sunday  suit,  and  willy  nilly,  John  got  into 
them,  leaving  his  wet  clothes  to  dry.  John  blushed  as 
lie  came  down  stairs  with  the  miller's  finery  on,  and 
blushed  still  more  at  fancying  he  saw  a  mischeivous 
smile  in  Prudy's  eye  on  behalf  of  the  ludicrous  figure 
he  cut  in  her  father's  old  style  garments. 

On  taking  his  leave  he  promised  to  come  back  for 
his  clothes  on  the  morrow.  After  this  exciting  though 
pleasant  introduction  raany's  the  time  was  he  seated  by 
the  cottage  hearth  or  leaning  on  the  front  gate 
exchanging  weather  notes  with  Prudence.  A  warm 
friendship  grew  up  between  Taplan  and  the  Jackmans, 
indeed  he  monopolized  the  guest's  place  at  the  cottage, 
for,  as  we  have  seen,  the  neighbors  kept  aloof. 

"  How  about  the    grog,  Jack  ?"    asked  Haley,  a 


8-34  TANCREDI. 

month  or  so  after  the  time  when  Jarl  was  rescued 
from  drowning.  "I  hav'n't  seen  you  taste  a  d.-op — I 
don't  know  the  day  when." 

"And,  my  friend,  you  never  will  again,  thanks  to 
you  for  sticking  to  me  even  when  I  had  deserted  my- 
self." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me !  And  have  you 
given  up  whiskey  for  good  ?" 

"  That's  what  I  mean,  Haley." 

"I'm  glad!  Oh,  but  I'm  glad!  Old  Fellow! 
Now  you  look  like  the  old  Jack  I  used  to  know  !  God 
bless  you,  Jack  !  Oh,  but  I'm  glad  !" 

It  is  not  easy  to  wring  tears  of  joy  from  toilworn, 
brawny-hearted  men.  Such  tears,  when  they  do  flow, 
are  peculiarly  ominous  of  deep  heart-soundings.  Tap- 
Ian  and  Haley  stood  holding  each  other  by  the  hands, 
and  looked  through  tears  into  tear-brimmed  eyes. 
They  looked  none  the  less  manly  for  those  tears. 

It  was  true,  John  Taplan  was  redeemed  from  the 
slavery  of  the  inordinate  cup.  He  gave  the  credit  to 
Martin  Haley,  and  surely  that  friend's  constancy  was 
above  praise,  but  it  was  the  gentle  Prudence  Jackman 
who  completed  and  established  the  reformation,  begun 
by  Haley  in  the  clothing  shop  in  New  York.  His  step 
was  lighter,  eyes  brighter,  actions  brisker,  tongue 
readier,  brain  clearer,  manners  more  social,  and  drets 
tidier  than  ever  before. 


TANCREDI.  325 

Taplan  had  asked  Prudence  to  become  his  wife 
and  she  had  consented. 

The  provident  pair  waited  for  the  time  when  he 
could  provide  the  essentials  of  a  substantial  copartner- 
ship. But  notwithstanding  his  industry  and  economy 
during  five  years  service  with  Rellim,  he  made  but 
slow  advance  in  his  position,  and  saved  but  a  small 
amount  out  of  his  moderate  earnings.  His  employer 
kept  him  as  a  drudge  on  a  drudge's  pay,  while  less 
competent  or  deserving  men  were  advanced  over  him 
in  place  and  salary.  In  modern  times  John  would 
have  struck  for  higher  wages  ;  in  those  days  dissatis- 
fied toilers  struck  for  the  gold  diggings  of  California. 
John  shipped  as  a  sailor  on  a  vessel  bound  for  San 
Francisco  via  Cape  Horn. 

Years  passed  away  without  news  of  John  Taplan, 
the  sailor,  but  Patience  Jackman  kept  his  memory  and 
her  faith,  companions  in  her  true  heart. 


TANCREDI. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

"I  have  a  silent  sorrow  here, 
A  grief  I'll  ne'er  impart  ; 
It  breathes  no  sigh,  it  sheds  no  tear, 
Yet  it  consumes  my  heart." 

"SEE,  here!  youngster,  let  this  be  a  warning  to 
yon  !  Keep  out  of  fights  until  you  are  old  enough  to 
take  care  of  yourself." 

This  admonition  was  bestowed  on  Jarl  on  a  street 
in  Philadelphia.  The  person  who  gave  it  was  a 
bronzed,  broad  shouldered  stranger,  who  had  rescued 
the  lad  from  the  very  midst  of  a  howling,  tramping 
mob  of  firemen,  who,  in  those  days,  generally  wound 
up  a  fire  with  a  riot,  in  which  rival  companies  and 
their  friends  pounded  each  other  with  brick-bats  and 
paving  stones. 

"  John  Taplan  !  John  Taplan  !  Hurrah  !  Hurrah 
for  John  Taplan !"  shouted  Jarl  at  the  top  of  his 
voice,  and  heedless  of  his  recent  peril  and  his  present 
bloody  nose  he  rushed  into  the  arms  of  the  surprised 
sailor. 

It  was  indeed  the  long  absent  John  Tuplan,  just 
returned  from  the  gold  mines  of  California,  and  on  his 
route  to  Pittsburgh. 


TANOREDI.  327 

As  a  matter  of  course  the  information  he  got  from 
Jarl  made  the  remaining  part  of  his  journey  super- 
fluous. He  was  piloted  by  Jarl  to  Nate  Jackman's 
house,  and  was  there  heralded  by  his  guide  shouting 
"  Hurrah  for  John  Taplan !" 

Taplan  had  made  his  "  Pile  of  dust,"  but  like  all 
the  "  returned  Californians  "  of  those  days,  he  was 
bound  to  go  back  to  the  "diggings,"  and  only  returned 
to  the  u  States"  to  carry  away  Prudence  Jackman  as  his 
wife.  Nor  was  he  long  in  accomplishing  his  errand — 
they  were  married  and  off  for  the  Pacific  slope  before 
Nate  could  realize  that  he  was  childless.  The  old  miller 
and  Jarl  broke  up  housekeeping  and  went  to  live  with 
Mrs.  Heron. 

This  lady  took  a  strong  liking  for  Jarl,  and  charged 
herself  with  every  motherly  care,  superintending  his 
education,  mending  his  clothes,  going  through  his 
pockets,  hiding  his  pistols,  and  executing  other  like 
duties  universally  thought  indispensible  in  the  rearing 
of  young  males.  She  breveted  him  her  chief  clerk, 
that  is,  he  was  to  become  that  official,  after  some  years 
of  schooling  to  fit  him  for  the  place.  A  part  of  her 
plan  was  kept  secret,  which  was  to  marry  him  to  her 
niece,  Charlotte  Duval. 

Nearly  opposite  to  the  Heron  mansion,  where  Jarl 
now  lived,  dwelt  a  celebrated  tragedian.  Jarl  had 
often  watched  the  great  man  come  and  go,  and  re- 


32S  TANCREDI. 

garded  him  with  that  awe  and  admiration  felt  for  a 
superior  being.  The  kingly  tread  and'  grace  of  the 
superb,  loud-voiced  man,  impressed  the  boy  with  a 
craving  desire  to  become  snch  a  man.  The  observant 
actor  began  to  take  some  notice  of  the  bright  and 
handsome  youth,  and  the  casual  street  acquaintance 
between  the  man  and  boy  grew  and  ripened  into  the 
most  friendly  intimacy.  The  proud  man  loved  to 
have  Jarl  in  his  sombre  home ;  he  seemed  to  bring 
with  him  there  the  sunshine  of  country  skies  and  the 
lark  of  the  blossoming  meadows.  But  the  actor  also 
took  a  practical  interest  in  the  lad,  and  persuaded  Mrs. 
Heron  and  Nate  Jackman  to  allow  Jaii  to  be  in- 
structed in  music  and  elocution,  the  latter  under  his 
immediate  supervision. 

A  year  or  more  had  passed  in  this  pleasant  man- 
ner, during  which  time  Jarl  made  rapid  progress  in 
his  studies,  especially  in  music,  which  art  seemed  to 
come  to  him  intuitively.  His  voice  was  already  phe- 
nomenal in  its  compass,  power  and  richness  ;  besides 
there  was  that  in  bis  style  and  presence  so  thrilling 
and  passionate,  as  to  stamp  him  with  the  impress  of 
high  talent,  if  not  genius. 

With  these  elements  and  environments  it  was  nat- 
ural that  he  should  fall  in  love  with  the  stage,  and 
he  began  preparing  himself  for  the  profession  of  the 
actor.  When  his  tutor,  the  tragedian,  appeared  on  the 


TANCREDL  839 

stage  in  Philadelphia,  lie  delighted  and  encouraged  the 
boy  by  assigning  to  him  some  minor  part,  or,  as  was 
then  not  uncommon,  some  by-play  interluded  into  the 
main  drama  of  the  evening's  entertainment.  On  one 
such  occasion  Jarl  personated  a  shepherd  boy,  with  song. 

In  that  audience  sat  Signor  Michele  Tancredi, 
looking  older,  and  more  sedate,  but  as  distinguished  as 
ever. 

On  the  following  day  the  manager  of  the  Walnut 
Street  Theatre  was  waited  on  by  Tancredi,  who  re- 
quested a  clue  to  the  shepherd  boy  of  the  evening 
before.  He  was  referred  to  the  actor,  and  the  actor 
took  him  to  Nate  Jackman.  The  Siguor  was  closeted 
for  a  long  time  with  the  old  miller,  and  came  away  at 
last  as  pale  as  death. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  at  that  interview 
he  learned  the  story  of  Jarl,  from  the  then  present, 
back  to  when  he  was  left  at  the  old  mill  by  a  dying 
woman.  Without  doubt  he  saw  and  handled  the  relics 
kept  so  guardedly  all  those  years  by  the  miller — the 
two  lockets  with  the  portraits  inside  of  both,  and  with 
his  first  name  written  by  his  own  hand  on  the  back  of 
one.  He  must  have  seen  and  recognized  the  defaced 
picture  of  his  wife. 

There  was  no  scene — no  outward  tumult,— on  the 
occasion  when  Tancredi  identified  his  long  lost  son. 
He  was  white  of  face,  but  he  was  not  the  kind  of  man 


800  TANCREDI. 

to  allow  his  emotions  to  explode  in  outward  tumult. 
Powerful  impressions  only  made  him  more  ijtoical 
because  more  guarded.  On  this  special  occasion  he 
was  as  calm  as  a  June  morning,  as  placid  as  the  surface 
of  the  moon.  But  we  who  are  endowed  with  lively 
imaginations,  may  enter  into  his  secret  feelings  and 
appreciate  what  was,  or  should  have  been,  his  remorse. 
And,  in  estimating  his  inward  disquiet  and  his  outward 
quiet,  we  may  conceive  how  possible  it  was  for  the 
Spartan  to  make  no  cry,  though  the  fox  dug  at  his 
vitals. 

From  our  knowledge  of  the  man  it  would  be 
expected  that  he  would  keep  his  remorseful  secret 
locked  up  in  his  breast,  and  he  did.  But  the  ties  of 
consanguinity,  the  prickings  of  conscience,  and,  perhaps 
most  of  all,  the  attractiveness  of  the  youth,  prompted 
him  to  take  a  zealous  interest  in  the  youth,  and  in 
everything  that  concerned  him.  He,  however,  dis- 
played such  clever  tact  and  delicacy,  that  his  attentions, 
though  marked,  excited  no  remark  ;  besides  every  one 
who  came  to  know  the  bright  boy  felt  the  same  kindly 
interest.  Mrs.  Heron,  the  Duvals,  the  tragedian,  all 
took  a  practical  interest  in  Jarl  ;  advising  this,  doing 
that  or  the  other,  regarding  his  training  and  schooling. 
The  Signer's  known  taste  and  culture,  more  particularly 
in  musical  matters,  gave  him  extra  license  to  bestow 


TAXCREDI.  381 

his  patronage  on  this  handsome  child  of  song.  No  one 
was  likely  to  suspect  the  Signer's  secret. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Tancredi,  and  perhaps  for  Jarl, 
also,  that  John  Taplan  was  in  far  away  California. 

It  was  impossible  for  Jarl,  with  his  positive,  passion- 
ate and  confiding  nature,  to  resist  the  influence  of  the 
kind  partiality  shown  him  by  the  fascinating  Signer. 
The  two  became  deeply  attached  to  each  other,  and 
passed  ranch  of  their  time  together,  over  their  music, 
studying  the  Italian  language,  or  driving  about  the 
city  in  the  Tancredi  carriage. 

Over  five  years  had  passed  under  the  able  tutorship 
of  the  actor  and  Tancredi,  and  it  was  more  than  six 
years  since  Jack  man  had  left  the  old  mill.  Jarl  was 
now  twenty-one.  He  was  possessed  of  such  a  wonder- 
ful voice,  and  showed  such  decided  love  and  fitness  for 
the  stage,  that  his  patrons  determined  that  he  should 
complete  his  musical  education  under  the  best  masters 
and  in  the  best  schools  of  Europe. 

Kate  Jackman  had  hitherto  suffered  them  to  do 
pretty  much  as  they  pleased  with  his  foster  child,  but 
he  drew  the  line  at  the  proposed  European  plan.  He 
looked  on  the  new  project  as  absurd  nonsense,  and  he 
said  it  was.  He  had  grumbled  at  the  new  fangled 
music  (as  he  termed  it)  which  the  boy  had  practiced. 
The  simple  old  man  loved  better  the  old  ballads  which 
Jarl  was  wont  to  sing  in  the  meadows,  and  about  the 


883  TANCREDI. 

old  mill ;  such  songs  brought  sweet  memories  to  his 
mind,  and  affectionate  tears  to  his  eyes.  But  tht  new 
songs  were  to  him  noise  and  nonsense,  or  as  he  called 
them  "  tunes  the  old  cow  died  on." 

The  boy's  patrons  argued  so  well,  however,  that 
Nate's  objections  were  narrowed  down  to  one — the 
matter  of  cost. 

"  Where's  the  money  to  come  from  ?  That's  what 
I  want  to  know — where's  the  money  to  come  from  ?" 

"  We'll  provide  for  his  education  while  abroad." 

"But  he  can't  go  by  himself,  and  I  can't  go  along, 
and  Prudy,  she's  in  Californy.  Who'll  take  keer  of 
him  among  them  f urriners  ?  and  Prudy  in  Californy  f" 

"  I'm  a  musician  and  a  native  of  Italy,  and  intim- 
ately acquainted  with  the  schools  and  the  best  teachers 
in  the  country,"  replied  Tancredi.  "  I  will  undertake 
to  secure  for  him  the  best  masters  and  the  best  care,-^- 
I  will  go  along  with  him,  if  you  will  trust  him  to  my 
keeping." 

The  old  man  was  well  nigh  persuaded,  but  insisted 
on  conferring  with  Duval  before  making  up  his  mind. 
In  a  short  time  that  gentleman's  consent  was  obtained, 
and  it  was  agreed  by  Nate  that  Jarl,  in  company  with 
and  under  the  care  of  Tancredi,  should  go  to  Europe  to 
finish  his  musical  education. 

Before  they  sailed,  and  for  the  first  and  only  time, 
Tancredi  invited  Jarl  to  pass  the  evening  at  hie  home. 


TANCREDI.  333 

The  youpg  man  went  and  met  there  a  young  gentle- 
man of  about  his  own  age.  This  pcrcon  was  slight  in 
figure,  was  not  so  tall  as  Jarl,  and  was  darker  skinned, 
with  remarkably  black  eyes.  He  wad  always  in  motion, 
and  spoke  rapidly  though  well.  By  his  manner  it  was 
evident  that  he  felt  proud  of  his  station  as  the  heir  of 
the  noble  Tancredi  and  the  illustrious  Bannemead. 
He  was,  if  not  as  distinguished  looking  as  his  father, 
as  proud  as  Madam  Tancredi,  whom  he  called  mother. 

This  young  man  was  known  as  Charles  Tancredi ; 
his  real  name  was  Carlo  Godardo. 

Tancredi  and  his  t\vo  youthful  companions  were 
seated  around  a  table  in  the  library  looking  over  a 
collection  of  rare  engravings,  and  intent  on  discussing 
their  merits.  Jarl  sat  between  the  two,— sat  facing 
the  library  door,  and  with  the  soft  light  of  the  table 
lamp  shining  full  on  his  handsome — how  handsome  ! 
young  face. 

A  noiseless  footfall  on  the  velvety  carpet,  a  silent, 
proud  woman — it  might  have  been  a  queen — in  the 
doorway,  from  where  she  gazed  on  that  beautiful 
young  face.  No  startled  look  or  movement  betokened 
what  may  have  flashed  through  her  mind  ;  she  only 
stood  like  a  statue  with  her  cold  eyes  resting  on  the 
unconscious  Jarl. 

"  What  dees  this  picture  represent  ?"  asked  Jarl,  as 
he  raised  his  head  to  look  into  Tancredi's  face. 


S84  TANCREDI. 

"  The  mother  and  her  child,  Hager  and  Ishmael, 
driven  into  the  wilderness." 

Jarl  slowly  arose  to  his  feet  as  his  gaze  met  that  of 
the  apparition  iu  the  doorway. 

Thus  met  the  mother  and  her  child  after  the  part- 
ing of  eighteen  long  bitter  years. 

Did  the  souls  of  these  two  beings  go  out  to  meet 
each  the  other  in  joyful  recognition  ?  Did  their  spir- 
its, as  did  their  bodies,  meet  face  to  face  ?  Did  they 
know  each  other  there  ? 

Does  the  soul,  when  it  reaches  the  immortal  land, 
realize  that  it  once  suffered  in  the  flesh  ?  If  not,  then 
is  death  practical  annihilation. 

If  the  souls  of  mother  and  son  hailed  each  other  as 
kin,  the  brain  was  not  taken  into  confidence. 

Madam  Tancredi  came  forward  and  gave  Jarl  her 
queenly  hand.  Thus  coldly  they  met,  thus  coldly 
they  parted  for  years  and  years. 

Jarl,  with  Signor  Tancredi,  sailed  for  Italy. 


TANCREDI.  335 


CHAPTEK  XXXI. 

"Xanihus.  For  if  thou  slayest  me,  thou  wilt  be  thy  father's 
murderer. 

"  Ion.  But  how  art  thou  my  Father  ?  Is  not  this  ridicu- 
lous for  me  to  listen  to  ? 

"  Xanthus.  Not  so ;  a  speedy  explanation  would  tell  you 
how  I  am  circumstanced. 

"  Ion.     And  wilt  thou  tell  me  ? 

"  Xanlhus.     I  am  thy  father  and  thou  art  my  son." 

— EURIPIDES. 

"  SIGNOE,  is  it  the  sea  voyage  that  makes  you- so 
quiet  ?"  asked  Jarl,  with  a  playful,  bantering  air,  when 
they  had  been  a  few  days  out  on  the  sea. 

"  Yon  give  me  small  chance  to  show  high  spirits  in 
your  presence,  my  yonng  friend,  for  you  are  almost 
constantly  aloft  or  among  the  sailors,"  retorted  Tan- 
credi. 

"But  I  leave  you  free  to  enjoy  the  ladies  society. 
They  seem  very  fond  of  you,  Signor." 

"  And  you,  my  boy,. won't  let  them  make  fond  of 
you,"  answered  Tancredi,  blushing.  "  You  are  differ- 
ent from  me  in  that  respect." 

"Well,  I  think  when  you  are  in  my  company,  you 
ought  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  and  talk  to  me  just  a 


036  TANCREDI. 

little  bit ;  but  here  we  liave  been  sitting  for  an  hour, 
during  which  time  you  have  scarcely  spoken  a  word." 

"  Never  fear  ;  I'll  make  up  for  lost  time  when  we 
reach  Naples.  Traveling  always  makes  me  stupid." 

Silence  again  fell  on  the  two  companions.  Jarl 
evidently  had  something  on  his  mind  and  was  bent  on 
making  his  friend  talk. 

"  Signer,  you  never  told  me  of  your  home  in 
Italy." 

"  The  story  will  be  more  eloquent  when  told  there. 
Then  you  will  say  that  it  is  the  most  delightful  place 
in  all  the  wide  world.  Ah  me  !  I  fear  you  will  never 
consent  to  return  to  America." 

"  You  left  it  for  America ;  why  may  not  I  ?" 

"  True  ;  I  left  it  and  so  may  you." 

"  Of  your  own  free  will  did  you  leave  Italy  ?" 

"  Of  my  own  free  will,  yes  ;  willingly,  no." 

"  You  left  it  unwillingly ;  then  why  should  you 
feel  sad  on  returning  ?" 

Tancredi  made  no  reply. 

"  You  do  not  answer  me,  Signor.  Have  I  offend- 
ed ?  I  meant  it  not." 

"  No,  my  gentle  friend,  you  have  not  offended  ; 
you  could  not  offend  me,  for  I  know  you  would  not." 

The  youth  again  lapsed  into  silence,  as  though  the 
sombre  spirit  of  his  companion  had  cast  its  shadows 
over  his  bouyant  thoughts. 


TAN  C  RED  I.  337 

The  sun  was  down,  the  day  was  dying,  and  the 
horizon  was  disappearing  under  the  fast  falling  mantle 
of  night. 

"  Jarl,  I  have  something  I  wish  to  tell  you  ;  some- 
thing important  and  sacred,"  said  Tancredi,  in  low 
and  solemn  voice,  after  a  long  silence.  "  Will  you 
promise  to  hear  what  I  have  to  say,  patiently,  through 
to  the  end  ?" 

"I  promise,"  replied  Jarl,  with  a  keen  look  of 
inquiry  and  wonder  depicted  on  his  handsome  face. 

"  It  is  a  long  story,  Jarl ;  therefore  you  must  be 
patient  during  its  recital.  It  is  a  sad  story,  but  do  not 
condemn  until  it  is  fully  told.  It  is  a  true  story,  re- 
serve your  doubts  until  you  try  all  the  facts.  The 
story  concerns  me  ;  it  relates  to  you." 

The  wondering  look  deepened  on  the  earnest  face. 

"  Go  on  ;  I  listen,"  he  whispered. 

"  Jarl,  look  around  you.  Everything  outside  this 
ship  is  waste  and  solitude.  This  vessel  alone,  at  pre- 
sent, constitutes  our  world,  and  it  contains  but  one 
being  you  can  call  your  friend.  I  am  that  friend — 
your  friend,  not  only  here,  but  everywhere,  wherever 
you  are,  and  whatever  you  do.  I  must  ever  and  always 
be  your  best  friend." 

Jarl  arose  and  stood  beside  the  Signer,  and  placed 
his  hand  on  his  shoulder,  a  strange  habit  he  had  when 
15 


8S3  TANCREDI. 

pleased  by  those  ho  loved.     The  Signer  held  tho  young 
man's  hand,  and  continued  : 

"  Far  away  beyond  that  golden  barrier  of  tho 
twilight,  where  but  now  the  suu  went  down  in  glory, 
is  the  world  from  whence  you  came.  Toward  where 
that  sun  shall  rise  again  is  the  strange  world  that 
awaits  your  coming.  No  kindred  will  greet  you  there, 
as  no  kindred  mourns  your  absence  from  your  native 
land." 

"  O  Signer !  Talk  not  so  bitterly  !  You  forget 
my  good  old  foster-father,  who  will  grieve  at  my 
absence,  and  rejoice  at  my  return." 

"  I  grant  that,  Jarl ;  God  bless  old  Nate  for  his 
devotion  to  you  !  But  I  spoke  of  kindred.  The  old 
miller  is  not  your  father  ;  you  have  no  kindred  known 
to  you." 

"  Alas '.     Signor,  you  speak  true  1" 

"  Jarl,  let  me  be  your  father ;  let  me  call  you  my 
son.  I  love  you,  Jarl,  how  well,  you  never  can  know. 
Let  me  fill  the  place  of  father  to  you." 

"  How  strange  that  you  should  ask  this,  since  we 
are  already  the  best  friends  in  the  world  !" 

"  But,  Jarl,  a  father's  place  is  holier  than  that  of 
friend." 

"  I  don't  think  it  will  make  much  difference  what 
I  call  you,  since  you  are  not  my  real  father,  but  I 
shall  try  to  love  and  obey  you  as  if  you  were.  Per- 


TANCREDI.  339 

haps  as  ray  father  I  would  fear  yon,  and  as  son  give 
you  only  respect,  where  I  should  give  love  and  obedi- 
ence. But  the  story,  Signer — you  are  forgetting  the 
story  you  promised." 

"  You  are  assisting  me  tell  the  story." 

"  But  the  story  we  are  telling  is  fictitious,  and 
made  up  as  we  go  along ;  besides  it  is  not  sad,  but 
jolly.  Your  story  was  to  have  been  a  sad  one." 

"  Jarl,  I  know  your  real  father." 

"  You  know  my  real  father  !"  exclaimed  Jarl,  with- 
drawing his  hand  from  Tancredi,  and  standing  before 
him. 

"  Yes,  I  know  your  father.  Look  on  this  pic- 
ture." 

"What,  the  picture  the  poor  woman  left  with  me 
at  the  miller's  cottage !  How  came  it  in  your  posses- 
sion ?" 

"  It  has  been  in  my  possession  for  twenty -five 
years.  It  is  mine,  honestly  mine,  and  always  has  been. 
It  is  not  the  picture  left  at  the  mill  by  the  woman, 
but  it  is  the  companion  of  that  picture.  Old  Nate 
Jackman  still  retains  that  picture  in  his  possession ; 
this  belongs  to  me.  Both  pictures  are  the  faithful 
portraits  of  your  father  as  he  appeared  a  quarter  of  a 
century  ago." 

"  And  what  of  him  ?  You  know  him  ?  Do  you 
know  him  ?  Does  he  still  live,  and  where  ?" 


340  TANCREDI. 

"  I  knew  him  when  he  was  a  child,  a  boy  ;  I  know 
him  and  was  with  him  when  he  sat  for  that  portrait. 
lie  still  lives  ;  I  know  him  as  you  also  do ;  he  stands 
before  you ;  I  am  your  father." 

"  Yon,  my  father  1" 

"I  am  your  father." 

The  father  stood  holding  out  his  arms  toward  his 
son. 

Jarl  turned  away  and  stood  gazing  out  on  the 
placid  summer  sea  glimmering  in  the  phosphorescent 
twilight.  Tbe  brightest  stars  began  to  shine  out  one 
by  one  like  rays  of  hope  and  beauty  amidst  the  fast 
gathering  gloom  of  the  night. 

Jarl  walked  aft,  as  if  instinctively  turning  back 
home  to  his  old  foster-father,  who  was  first  in  his 
thoughts,  and  who  filled  the  largest  space  in  his  grate- 
ful heart.  When  he  reached  the  stern  of  the  vessel, 
he  stood  and  gazed  at  the  evening  star,  and  saw  in  its 
beams  the  fantastic  flames  that  blazed  on  the  cottage 
hearth  on  that  eventful  eve  when  first  he  resolved  to 
fly  from  his  enemies.  He  felt  again  like  fleeing — 
from  what  lie  knew  not. 

A  strange  impression  came  over  him,  a  strange 
fancy  siezed  him ;  it  was  not  sorrow,  or  hate,  or  des- 
pair, scarcely  even  despondency,  but  a  feeling  of 
mingled  regret  and  bereavement — regret  that  he  had 
ever  left  the  protection  of  his  foster-father,  and  bereave- 


TANCREDI.  341 

ment  at  the  loss  of  his  society.  Somehow  he  vaguely 
felt  that  this  elegant  Signor,  who  called  him  son,  had 
insidiously  and  cruelly  come  between  him  and  the  old 
miller.  He  fancied  that  the  Boheman  life  he  had 
hitherto  led,  and  which  was  endeared  to  him  by  usage, 
was  slipping  away,  and  its  place  filled  with  family, 
ancestors,  and  all  the  accessories  of  conventional  life. 
His  old  life,  if  solitary,  had  been  independent ;  in  it  he 
had  no  ancestors  to  honor,  no  kindred  to  copy,  no 
family  to  humor. 

He  was  jealous  of  the  ambition  which  lured  him 
from  his  humble  station,  suspicious  of  the  Signor  with 
his  blandishments  and  his  patronage,  and  angry  with 
himself  for  having  left  his  old  benefactor.  Though 
weary  miles  of  waves  rolled  between,  yet  the  Old  Mil- 
ler seemed  nearer  and  dearer  than  ever  before — 
nearer  and  dearer  a  thousand  times  than  the  grand 
Signor  who  claimed  to  be  his  father. 

His  meditations  were  interrupted  by  a  light  hand 
on  his  shoulder ;  turning  round  he  faced  Tancredi. 

"  Not  now,  my  son,  not  now ;  some  other  time. 
"When  we  are  come  to  our  own  beautiful  home  I  shall 
relate  to  you  the  wonderful  story  of  your  life." 

"  As  it  best  pleases  you,  Signor." 

"  At  present  I  ask  but  one  favor — do  not  speak  of 
what  I  have  told  you  to  any  one." 

"  I  have  no  one  to  tell.     But  since  it  is  your  request 


343  TA.NCREDI. 

I  shall  not  disappoint  you,'r  replied  Jarl,  coldly,  almost 
bitterly. 

Tancredi's  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  his 
tact,  served  him  well  on  the  occasion.  He  realized 
thoroughly  the  ordeal  to  which  he  had  submitted  his 
son.  His  determination  at  first  was  to  make  no  attempt 
at  revealing  Charles  Tancredi's  history  until  after  they 
were  happily  established  at  his  home  in  Naples ;  and, 
that  there  might  be  no  sudden  crash,  his  intention  was 
to  slowly  and  guardedly  enlighten  the  son,  that  there 
might  be  no  straining  of  the  regard  he  had  shown  for 
his  father.  Chance,  or  fate,  had  strangely  led  him  to 
anticipate  the  opening  chapter  of  Charles'  mysterious 
nativity,  but  his  observant  eye  had  caught  sight  of  the 
imminent  panic  in  the  boy's  mind,  and  his  judgment 
called  a  halt. 

But  the  secret  was  exposed,  although  not  fully  re- 
vealed, and  was  beyond  recall.  The  story  must  be 
completed  sooner  or  later  at  all  hazards ;  if  no  one  else, 
Jarl  would  demand  the  whole  story  of  his  birth  and 
parentage.  The  Signer,  therefore,  followed  his  son  to 
where  he  stood  brooding  over  the  strange  story,  and 
Bought  to  allay  the  storm  brewing  in  his  breast. 

Jarl,  the  Miller's  Boy,  or,  as  he  shall  hereafter  be 
known,  Charles  Tancredi,  settled  down  at  Naples  to 
his  studies  in  music.  The  story  begun  by  his  father 
eeemed  to  exert  a  great  influence  over  him,  at  least  he 


TANCREDI.  343 

exhibited  a  marked  change  in  deportment,  and  from 
the  rolicking  noisy  boy  he  became  quiet,  observant  and 
moody.  He  sought  to  be  alone  when  not  in  the  con- 
servatoire, and  evidently  shunned  the  Signer's  com- 
pany ;  or  if  he  spent  an  hour  with  his  father  he  was 
taciturn  if  not  answering  the  simple  yes  or  no  to  the 
Signer's  interrogatories.  His  perplexity  was  a  real 
anguish,  which  long  continued  discipline  under  trials 
and  persecutions  alone  enabled  him  to  endure  with 
resignation.  How  often  and  often  he  longed  for  the 
ignorance,  the  independence  and  the  content  of  his 
days  under  the  guardianship  of  his  dear  old  foster- 
father  ! 

One  night,  at  a  late  hour,  Tancredi  and  Charles  sat 
alone  in  their  beautiful  home  over-looking  Naples. 
The  talk  was  on  the  education  and  the  future  of 
Charles  Tancredi. 

"Charles,  you  have  led  me  to  believe  that  you  are 
inclined  to  go  on  the  stage  as  a  public  actor." 

"  Yes,  Signor." 

"  I  trust  that  since  you  have  learned  who  and  what 
you  are,  you  will  give  up  that  ambition." 

"What  am  I,  Signor?" 

"  You  are  my  son.  Your  relations  in  almost  every 
particular  are  materially  altered  from  what  they  were, 
and  the  sooner  you  recognize  that  faot  the  better  for 
you  and  me.  Your  family  has  claims  on  you  which 


844  TANCREDI. 

you  cannot  ignore.  You  are  secure  of  great  wealth 
which  makes  a  profession  no  longer  necessary  ;  yon  will, 
as  the  head  of  the  Tancredi  house — the  oldest  of  the 
noble  houses  of  Italy — be  called  upon  to  fill  an  exalted 
station  in  nation  and  society,  and  a  professional  career 
would  be  incompatible  with  that  station.  In  addition 
to  the  noble  family  of  which  you  are  the  heir,  your 
mother  belongs  to  a  distinguished  family,  and  is  quite 
wealthy  in  her  own  right." 

"Signer,  you  speak  of  my  mother;  you  will  please 
remember  that  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  her  ac- 
quaintance." 

"  Not  know  your  mother  !" 

"How  should  I?  You  are  my  father;  you  tell  me 
BO,  and  I  believe  you,  but  I  could  not  have  guessed 
that  you  are  my  father.  Neither  can  I  guess  who  is 
my  mother,  and  you  have  not  told  me,  hence  I  do  not 
know  her,  for  it  has  not  pleased  you  to  complete  the 
story  you  began  on  shipboard." 

"  Why,  Charles,  who  should  be  your  mother  but 
my  wife,  Madam  Alice  Tancredi,  the  lady  whom  you 
met  at  rny  house  in  Philadelphia  the  evening  before 
we  left  America." 
^  "  That  lady  my  mother !" 

"Yes;  who  else,  pray?" 

"  No  one  else,  I  pray." 

"  Wherefore,  then,  your  surprise  ?" 


TANCREDI.  345 

UO  Signer,  can  yon  ask?  "What  but  surprise 
meets  me  on  every  side?  I  am  surprised  that  she  did 
not  call  me  son  ;  surprised  that  you  did  not  present  me 
to  her  as  to  my  mother;  surprised  that  I  never  met  her 
before  nor  since;  surprised  that  she  let  me  suffer  all 
these  sorrowful  years;  surprised  that  you  permitted 
me  to  be  an  outcast  without  a  single  tie  of  blood  to  cling 
to;  and  surprised  that  my  mother  coldly  let  me  leave 
her  to  come  to  this  foreign  land." 

"Alas  for  me,  my  poor  boy,  how  your  words  wring 
my  heart!  Woe  is  me!  Woe  is  me!  for  your  true 
words  cut  deeper  than  a  knife." 

"  Perhaps,  Signer,  I  should  not  feel  as  I  do ;  but  I 
cannot  help  feeling  surprised  at  my  new  and  strange 
surroundings.  I  seem  to  walk  in  a  dream — I,  who 
never  felt  the  claims  of  kindred,  am  suddenly  intro- 
duced to  father  and  mother  and  family.  Oh,  it  is  a 
surprise!  I  know  it  is — must  be,  good  news,  since  it 
restores  me  to  those  endearments  held  desirable  and 
sacred  ;  but  I  have  dreaded  to  hear  about  my  mother 
— dreaded,  oh  dreaded  it  as  the  culprit  dreads  to  hear 
the  sentence  spoken  by  the  judge.  For  the  wrong  I 
have  done  you  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  The  wrong  you  have  done  me !  What  wrong, 
Charles?" 

"  In  my  mind  I  have  wronged  you,  Signor.  I  have 
also  wronged  the  lady,  your  wife — my  mother." 


846  TANCREDI. 

"Bat  the  wrong,  wherein  have  you  wronged  your 
mother  or  myself?" 

"Some  other  woman  might  have  been  my  mother, 
some  other  woman  who  had  no  right  to  be  my 
mother." 

"  Forgive  me,  my  poor  boy,  forgive  me  for  my 
cruelty,  my  cruel  forgetfulness !  Great  God,  this 
remorse  grows  keener  every  hour !  On  my  knees,  I 
crave  your  pardon  !  O,  Charles,  my  son  !" 

"  Signor,  listen  to  me.  Of  the  causes  which  led  to 
the  lot  which  has  befallen  me,  I  am  ignorant.  You 
have  not  finished  the  story.  You  speak  of  remorse  ;  I 
know  not  why  you  should  feel  guilt  stricken.  I  can 
only  wait  until  I  have  heard  the  completion  of  the 
story  of  my  life.  How  came  it  that  I  was  an  outcast  ? 
Why  did  my  family  leave  me  to  suffer  all  those  bitter 
years  ?  Why  does  no  one  but  you  know  of  my  iden- 
tity, and  how  came  you  to  discover  me  ?  Does  my 
mother  know  of  me  ?  I  am  not  even  restored  to  my 
family,  only  to  you.  Why?  These  questions  must 
be  answered.  I  feel  very  bitter  and  vengeful.  I 
command  you  to  finish  the  story." 

Tancredi  then  began  and  told  his  son  everything 
and  every  circumstance  connected  with  his  own  life. 
The  conscience  stricken  man  could  not  have  shown 
more  candor  and  truthfulness  if  he  had  been  inside 
the  confessional  purgating  his  sins  in  his  dying  hour. 


TANCREDI.  347 

He  told  everything,  and  kept  nothing  back;  even 
•where  the  story  blackened  with  his  own  perfidy  he 
was  the  more  open  and  explicit.  When  he  concluded 
by  telling  how  he  had  palmed  off  the  son  of  the 
woman,  Godardo,  on  his  wife — told  how  Carl  Godardo 
had  usurped  the  place  of  Charles  Tancredi, — the  young 
man  sprang  from  his  chair  like  an  enraged  tiger  and 
dashed  his  father  to  the  floor. 

For  a  moment,  the  angered  youth  looked  down  on 
the  prostrate  form,  for  a  moment  he  caught  the  sight 
of  his  father's  piteous,  terrorized  face,  and,  uttering  a 
Avail  like  that  of  a  man  stricken  with  death,  he  fled 
from  the  terrible  temptation. 

From  that  moment  Tancredi  never  saw  or  heard 
of  his  son.  For  months  and  months  he  sought  him 
in  every  corner  of  Europe  ;  his  son  was  lost  for  the 
second  time,  this  time,  forever. 

Broken  in  health  and  spirits,  and  bowed  under 
remorse  and  despair  the  wretched  man  returned  to  his 
home  in  Philadelphia.  He  was  bound  to  give  an 
account  of  his  stewardship  to  Nate  Jackmaii.  He  lied 
to  and  deceived  the  old  man. 

His  evil  deeds  and  their  woeful  consequences 
swarmed  like  a  troop  of  noisy  demons  to  shake  his  pil- 
low with  unrest.  Keen  despair  worked  a  dagger  in 
his  heart,  scorching  memory  burnt  into  his  brain,  and 
his  form,  once  so  proud  and  stately,  and  the  step  once 


348  TAXCREDI. 

so  kingly,  were  bent  and  halting  now.  He  grew 
maudlin  in  his  talk,  childish  in  his  behavior,  treaded 
being  left  alone,  and  followed  his  wife  about  the  house 
like  a  tottering  babe.  He  gradually  lost  the  use  of 
his  legs,  and,  unable  to  walk,  sat  all  day  muttering  to 
himself,  or  weeping  without  apparent  cause. 

"  I  have  something  on  my  mind  that  troubles  me," 
he  said  to  his  wife  one  day  while  seated  in  his  easy- 
chair. 

"  Ought  I  to  know  what  your  trouble  is  ?"  she 
asked,  kindly. 

"  My  trouble  ?  yes.  You  must  know  my  trouble — 
yes,  my  trouble.  It  concerns  you  more  than  any  one. 
I  have  heard  news  of  the  Godardo." 

"  Ah,  indeed  ?  And  how  can  news  of  her  possibly 
concern  me,  unless  it  is  to  hear  of  her  repentance  ?" 

"She  is  dead.  She  has  been  dead  for  twenty 
years." 

"  I  hope  she  is  better  occupied  where  she  now  is." 

"  She  left  a  message  for  you." 

"A  message  for  me?  What  message  could  she 
leave  me  ?" 

"  Concerning  your  son — our  son." 

"  With  whom  did  she  leave  this  message  ?" 

"  With  the  family  at  whose  house  she  died." 

"  Who,  and  where  is  this  family,  and  what  is  the 
message  ?" 


TANCREDI.  349 

"  An  old  miller,  culled  Nate  Jackman,  who  lived 
ii\  Western  Pennsylvania,  near  Pittsburgh,  and  at 
whose  house  she  died,  now  lives  in  this  city  ;  he  has 
her  dying  message,  and  can  give  it  better  than  you  can 
receive  it  second-hand." 

"I  am  not  interested  in  any  message  she  could 
leave.  She  stole  my  child  ;  it  was  not  her  fault  that 
I  recovered  him.  I  have  my  son,  and  want  nothing  of 
her  living  or  dead." 

"  I  think  you  should,  as  a  duty  to  your  son,  visit 
the  miller.  I  think  you  will  be  surprised  at  what  he 
will  tell  you.  He  has  in  his  keeping  a  few  articles 
which  the  dead  woman  left,  and  which  articles  I  have 
seen,  and  by  them  identified  her." 

"  What  are  those  articles  ?" 

"  Among  them  a  locket  worn  by  our  son  when  he 
was  stolen,  and  which  contains  your  portrait  and 
mine." 

"  I  have  often  wondered  what  became  of  that 
locket.  I  supposed  that  you  took  it  away  with  you 
when  you  carried  Charles  to  Italy." 

"I  think  the  miller  would  give  you  that  locket. 
Here  is  the  directions  by  which  he  may  be  found. 
Go,  and  hasten  back,  for  I  dread  being  left  alone.  I 
feel  I  shall  not  trouble  you  long.  I  trust  it  won't  be 
for  long." 


850  TANCREDI. 

"  Since  you  are  so  anxious,  I  shall  visit  Mr.  Jack- 
mail." 

Madam  found  the  old  man  at  Mrs.  Heron's. 

"Mr.  Jackman,"  said  Madam  Alice,  "  my  husband 
tells  me  that  a  woman  called  Rosetta  Godardo  died  at 
your  house  twenty  years  ago." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  a  woman  died  at  my  house  twenty 
years  come  next  November,  but  she  wouldn't  tell  her 
name." 

"  My  husband  also  tells  me  that  she  left  a  message 
for  me." 

"  No,  ma'am,  she  didn't — she  didn't  leave  a  mes- 
sage for  nobody." 

"Are  you  sure  ?" 

"  Sure  ?  Yes  ;  she  only  left  some  things  and 
Jarl." 

"Jarl?     What  is  a  Jarl  ?" 

"  Why,  the  boy  she  left  with  me  when  she  died." 

"  The  boy  !     What  boy  '!» 

"  The  boy — why  Jarl — three  years  old  she  brung 
with  her,  and  some  picters  ;  here's  the  picters." 

He  showed  her  the  portraits  already  described, 
which  she  recognized.  Attached  to  the  locket  by  a 
slender  chain  was  a  tiny  gold  charm,  marked  with  the 
letters  A.  B.,  her  maiden  initials.  She  had  sat  by  and 
watched  the  goldsmith  fasten  this  small  jewel  to  the 
locket,  and,  with  her  own  hands,  she  had  placed  it 


TANCREDI.  301 

around   baby's  neck  on  the  first    anniversary  of  his 
birthday. 

"Here's  a  silk  hankercher,  it  belonged  to  Jarl, 
too." 

He  showed  her  a  handkerchief  marked  with  the 
monogram,  C.  T.,  which  she  had  embroidered  with 
her  own  hands. 

"  Whose  child  was  it  ?" 

"  She  said  it  wasn't  hern." 

"  Bat  whose  child  do  you  think  it  was  ?" 

"  Strayed  or  stolen !  That's  what  I've  been  a 
tryin'  to  find  out  for  twenty  years,  yes,  for  well  nigh 
twenty  years.  Maybe  you  know,  ma'am." 

"  What  became  of  the  child  you  call  Jarl  ?" 

"  I  took  him  and  raised  him  like  one  of  my  own. 
He  lived  with  me  till  a  year  ago,  when  Mr.  Tancredi 
took  him  away  to  Itlee,  to  school,  Oh,  he's  the  bra- 
vest, and  handsomest  boy  you  ever  saw  !  Why,  you 
did  see  him,  for  he  told  me  so,  himself — he  told  me 
he  saw  you  at  your  house  the  night  before  he  went 
away  to  Itlee.  But  he  didn't  say  nothin'  about  you 
bein'  his  mother.  Ax  your  husband,  he  knows  where 
Jarl  is,  for  he  likes  Jarl — everybody  likes  Jarl." 

Madam  Tancredi  turned  deadly  pale,  and  fell  on  the 
floor  in  a  swoon.  Jackman  revived  her  by  dashing 
water — more  than  needed — in  her  face. 


852  TANOREDI. 

"  Is  that  all  you  can  tell  me  ?"  she  asked,  after 
recovering  consciousness. 

"That's  all.  I'm  sure  the  crazy  woman  didn't 
leave  no  message  for  you  nor  nobody." 

"  Will  you  trust  these  things  in  my  keeping?" 

"  What'll  you  do  with  'em  ?  I've  kept  them  to  try 
to  find  Jarl's  kinfolks." 

"  I  think  this  boy — that  Jarl  was — O,  Mr.  Jackman  ! 
Do  you  think  that  this  child  was  my  son  ?  I  had  a 
child  stolen  from  me  twenty  years  ago.  He  was  stolen 
by  the  woman  who  died  at  your  house.  He  wore  this 
locket  around  his  little  neck ;  this  was  his  handker- 
chief— see,  I  stitched  these  very  letters  with  my  own 
hand  !  O,  what  if  Jarl  is  my  own  lost  son  !" 

"  Yes,  Ma'am,  yes,  certainly  ;  if  you  air  his  mother 
take  'em,  in  welcome ;  take  'em  home  with  you. 
That's  what  they're  for, — to  find  Jarl's  mother.  But 
mind  this — you  can't  like  Jarl  as  well  as  I  do — mind 
you,  not  as  well  as  I  do." 

She  took  the  relics  and  went  home,  where  she  had 
a  painful  and  horrible  meeting  with  her  husband. 

"  Well,  Signor,  I  got  the  message  from  the  old 
miller,  and  I  ask  you  in  God's  name  to  interpret  its 
meaning." 

"  Your  son  was  stolen  by  the  Godardo.  He  is  the 
youth  who  passed  the  evening  in  this  house  before  I 


TANOREDI.  853 

took  him  to  Italy.  I  am  as  thoroughly  convinced  of 
his  identity  as  I  am  of  yours." 

"  But,  the  youth  we  call  our  son, — who  is  he  ?" 

"  He  is  not  your  son." 

"My  God,  can  such  things  be  !  Then  in  Heaven's 
name,  whose  child  is  he  ?" 

"  He  is  the  son  of  Rosetta  Godardo." 

"  Who  is  his  father  ?" 

"  Alas,  Madam,  1  am  his  father." 

"  May  God  have  mercy  on  your  soul !" 

"  Amen  !  When  I  went  to  Italy  at  the  time  of  our 
quarrel  and  separation  I  stole  the  Godardo's  child,  and 
carried  him  home  with  me  to  Naples." 

"  And,  in  revenge,  that  mother  stole  my  child." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  knowingly  and  wilfully  palmed  off  her 
child  on  me  as  my  own  ?" 

"Now,  you  know  all.  I  could  suffer  the  pangs  of 
concealment  no  longer.  It  was  killing  me  by  inches. 
Forgive  me,  or  kill  me  !" 

"  Forgive  you !  You,  the  fiend  !  The  child  stealer, 
the  traitor,  the  murderer  !  God  has  cursed  our  union, 
he  may  forgive  you,  I  cannot.  Begone  from  this 
home  that  you  have  twice  desecrated  and  desolated! 
Begone,  and  take  with  you  your  son  whom  you  have 
fraudulently  taught  me  to  love  !" 

"  Mercy  !    Mercy  !"  cried  the  stricken  wretch,  as 


354  TANGREDL 

he  trembling  arose,  with  the  palor  of  death  on  his 
withered  face.  He  convulsively  reached  out  his  bands 
to  her  and  fell  forward  a  corpse. 

Too  late  ;  he  never  moved.  Too  late  ;  he  never 
breathed  again.  Too  late  for  earthly  retribution ; 
Signer  Michele  Tancredi  was  dead. 

Tancrecli's  will  provided  for  the  young  man,  Carlo 
Godardo,  who  amazed  and  broken-hearted,  went  sadly 
away  with  his  father's  dead  body  to  Italy,  where  he 
was  cared  for  by  the  Tancredi  family.  Madam  Tan- 
credi would  not  see  him,  she  even  refused  his  touching 
message  of  farewell.  The  unhappy  Madam  Alice  sent 
a  messenger  to  Europe  to  hunt  up  her  son  and  bring 
him  home.  She  only  learned  that  he  had  mysteriously 
disappeared  from  Naples,  and  was  never  heard  of  since. 
It  was  renewing  and  continuing  the  detective  work 
left  off  twenty  years  agone.  JSTo  trace  was  had  of  the 
boy,  lost  the  second  time. 


TANCREDI.  355 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

'  He  left  a  name  at  which  the  world  grew  pale, 
To  point  a  moral,  or  adorn  a  tale." 

A  KEMARKABLE  phenomenon  in  the  music  and 
dramatic  world  rocked  European  society  to  its  depths 
a  year  or  so  after  the  death  of  Signer  Tancredi. 
Tongue  and  pen  were  busy  with  praising  a  new  tenor, 
who  at  one  bound,  leaped  from  total  obscurity  into  un- 
precedented public  favor.  His  fame  was  still  further 
heightened  because  of  the  mystery  which  surrounded 
him.  No  one  knew  him,  whence  he  came,  or  who  was 
his  teacher.  One  day  a  proud  and  handsome  stranger 
presented  himself  before  the  faculty  of  the  conserva- 
toire in  Milan  as  a  contestant  for  singing  in  a  prize 
trial,  which  was  appointed  for  the  selection  of  a  tenor 
for  the  grand  opera  house  at  St.  Petersburg.  One 
song  from  the  stranger  finished  the  contest — he  was 
appointed  to  the  place.  He  seemed  to  have  arisen  out 
of  the  earth,  and  from  that  hour  filled  the  opera  sky 
like  a  blazing  comet,  at  whose  light  all  stars  paled. 
The  unknown  tenor,  as  he  was  called,  had  the  world 
at  his  feet. 


356  TANCREDI. 

The  echo  of  his  fame  and  glory,  like  a  wide-spread- 
ing perfume,  reached  the  western  world,  and  America 
was  on  the  tip-toe  of  expectation,  for  the  renowned 
singer  was  announced  for  a  brief  season  in  the  United 
States. 

In  New  York,  where  he  first  appeared,  his  success 
was  so  marvelous,  that  week  after  week  his  engagement 
was  extended,  to  the  no  small  chagrin  of  other  cities. 
The  audiences  went  wild  over  his  beauty,  his  acting, 
and,  more  than  all  the  rest,  his  wonderful  voice  and 
singing.  His  receptions  every  night  were  not  appro- 
val and  applause,  they  were  ovations. 

At  last  he  was  billed  to  appear  in  Philadelphia. 
On  the  opening  night  there  sat  in  the  packed  theatre 
four  of  our  old  acquaintances,  Mrs.  Heron,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Duval,  and  their  daughter,  Miss  Charlotte,  now 
grown  into  a  lovely  woman. 

The  opera  of  the  evening  was  Maritana.  When 
the  ragged  and  rolicking  Don  Caesar  De  Bazan  ren- 
dered the  Cavatina,  "Let  me  like  a  soldier  fall,"  the 
applause  which  followed  was  never  equalled  in  a  Quaker 
city  audience.  The  encore  was  almost  as  noisy. 

The  tribute  of  Charlotte  Duval  was  tears.  Again 
lie  sang  the  last  stanza  of  that  stirring  arietta,  while 
Charlotte  followed  her  libretto  with  the  English 
words. 


TANCKEDI.      ^  357 

"I  only  ask  of  that  proud  race 
That  ends  its  blaze  in  me, 
To  die  the  last,  and  not  disgrace 
Its  ancient  chivalry. 

Tho1  o'er  ray  bier  no  banners  wave, 

No  martial  requiem  swell  ; 
Enough — they  murmur  at  my  grave — 

He  like  a  soldier  fell  ! 

When  the  song  was  concluded,  Charlotte  was  sobb- 
ing. What  at?  Her  memory  wandered  back  to  the 
woods  and  meadows  about  the  old  mill  when  Jarl  sang 
by  her  side  and  made  the  welkin  ring  with  his  glad, 
bird-like  voice.  She  thought  of  Jarl  and  the  gala  days 
of  childhood,  and  wept.  There  was  an  echo  in  the 
voice  of  the  Don  Caesar  of  the  stage  that  stirred  heart- 
fond  memories  of  the  sweet  golden  clays  of  childhood  ; 
that  was  the  cause  of  her  tears. 

When  the  tenor  next  came  on  the  stage  in  the  gor- 
geous costume  of  the  bridegroom,  Charlotte  Duval 
gave  a  startled  cry :  "  My  God  1  It  is  Jarl !  O 
father,  it  is  Jarl !" 

The  whole  audience  heard,  and  all  eyes  were  turned 
toward  the  excited  girl.  Her  speech  was  meaningless 
to  that  audience.  The  tenor  heard  that  cry,  and  he 
understood  those  words  and  what  they  meant.  He 
stood  in  dumb  astonishment  until  the  frenzied  maestro 
wanded  him  back  to  his  cue.  Charlotte  heard  no  more, 
but  saw  only  the  tenor  on  the  stage. 


358  TANCREDI. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Duval  saw  it  and  identified  it,  as  did 
Mrs.  Heron,  for  had  she  not  made  it  with  her  own 
hands  ? — tlje  Scarlet  Scarf  with  a  white  heart  and 
anchor  worked  in  white  embroidery  in  either  end. 
That  scarf  was  worn  by  the  Don  Caesar  of  the  opera. 

The  next  morning  early  an  old  man  with  snowy  hair 
and  rosy  face  stood  waiting  and  watching  before  the 
theatre  entrance.  When  the  doors  opened  for  rehear- 
sal the  old  fellow  pushed  past  the  green  door  opening 
into  the  auditorium.  An  officer  seized  him  and  rudely 
attempted  to  thrust  him  out,  but  fell  sprawling  before 
he  knew  what  struck  him. 

"  I  want  my  boy  !  I  want  Jarl !  and  no  one  can 
put  me  out  till  I  find  him.  Jarl,  I  say  Jarl !"  cried 
the  old  miller  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

Other  attaches  of  the  place  came  to  the  rescue,  and, 
although  they  pinioned  the  old  hero  to  the  floor,  they 
could  not  throttle  his  voice. 

"  I  want  Jarl !  Hello,  Jarl !  It's  me—it's  Nate, 
the  old  miller !  Hello,  Jarl,  I  say !" 

A  man  leaped  from  the  stage,  sprang  across  the 
chairs,  and  in  a  second  the  custodians  of  Nate  went 
flying  hither  and  thither. 

"  Here  I  am,  father !  Here's  your  boy !  I'm 
Jarl !" 

Two  men,  one  old  and  gray,  the  other  young 
and  proud,  were  in  each  other's  arms. 


TANCREDI.  359 

"  God  bless  yon,  my  boy  !  God  bless  yon,  Jarl  ! 
I  know'd  you'd  come  back  to  me  !  You  won't  leave 
me  any  more,  will  you,  Jarl  ?  God  bless  my  poor 
boy  !" 

"  No,  my  good,  dear  old  father ;  we  shall  never 
part  again  ?  I  am  come  back  to  you — you  that  I  love 
best  in  all  this  wide  world  ?" 

Jarl  and  Nate!  They  make  one  prouder  of  his 
race. 

"Come;  let's  git  out  of  hear!  This  place  haint 
big  enough  to  hold  us.  Come  home,  Jarl,  come 
home !" 

The  people  along  the  streets  turned  and  watched 
and  followed  the  beautiful  old  man  leading  home  his 
boy, — for  the  two  grand  men  held  each  other  by  the 
hand.  They  talked  and  they  laughed  and  they  cried, 
and  tears  so  dimmed  their  eyes  that  they  no  more  saw 
their  fellow  mortals  around  them  than  they  did  the 
dancing  angels  that  strewed  their  pathway  with  ethereal 
roses.  Oh,  it  was  a  spectacle  more  grand  and  glorious 
than  all  the  flushing  triumphs  won  by  the  young  tenor 
on  the  stage,  grand  and  glorious  as  were  those 
triumphs. 

Jarl  and  Nate  !  They  reveal  the  full  meaning  of 
the  words  Honor,  Friendship,  Gratitude. 

Charles  Tancredi  went  home  with  Nate  Jackman  ; 
that  visit,  to  him,  was  as  unavoidable  as  was  Gilpin's 


SCO  TANCREDI. 

ride,— Nate  would  have  carried  him  had  he  refused  to 
walk.  But  there  was  no  trouble  on  that  score ;  the 
young  man  was  glad  and  willing  to  go  home. 

Arrived  there  he  was  the  miller's  boy,  Mrs. 
Heron's  clerk,  Mrs.  Duval's  prince,  Mr.  Duval's 
nature's  nobleman,  and  Charlotte's — what  was  he  to 
Charlotte  Duval?  What  he  ever  had  been — her  ideal, 
her  hero,  her  angel,  and  her  lover,  winch  last  rounds 
the  top  of  a  maiden's  climax. 

On  the  following  day  Nate  Jackman  rang  the  door 
bell  of  the  Tancredi  mansion  on  Walnut  street,  and 
presently  was  admitted  into  the  presence  of  Madam 
Alice. 

"I  come  to  tell  you  Jarl  is  found." 

"  You  mean  Charles,  my  son,  do  you  not  ?  Good 
news,  O,  good  news !  Where  is  he  ?" 

"Here,  in  Philadelphia." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Jackman  !  bring  him  to  me.  When  will 
you  bring  him  to  me  ?  Is  he  in  this  house  ?  Will 
you  bring  him  this  minute,  to-day — this  night  ?" 

"  No ;  I  guess  not  to-night  bekase,  you  see,  he  is  a 
singin'  in  the  opery  to-night,  and  can't  git  off.  You 
mus-t  know  he's  the  great  tinner  everybody  is  a 
braggin'  about." 

"What,  the  great  tenor?  the  unknown  tenor,  my 
son  ?  But  I  care  not  for  that  so  he  proves  to  be  my 


TANCREDI.  861 

son.  I'm  his  mother  starving  to  see  him  before  I 
die." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  go  and  fetch  him  home,  like 
I  did?  You've  been  waitin'  for  him  a  good  while." 

"I'll  send  you  to  bring  him;  you  can  bring  him  if 
any  one  can.  I  wouldn't  know  him  if  I  saw  him. 
You'll  bring  him  to  his  mother,  won't  you,  Mr. 
Jackman  ?" 

She  rang  the  bell  and  ordered  the  carriage  to  be 
brought  to  the  door  for  Nate. 

"  He  mightn't  come  for  me,  Ma'am  ;  just  put  your 
hand  to  a  short  letter,  sayin'  as  how  you  air  well,  and 
hopes  these  few  lines  may  find  him  enjoyin'  the  same 
God's  blessin',  an'  so  fort.  You  see  I  want  to  curry  it 
along  for  fear  he  won't  come  for  my  say,  don't  you 
see?" 

She  wrote  and  sent  by  Nate  the  following ; 

CHARLES  TANCREDI. 
My  darling  Son : 

Forgive  your  mother  for  not  writing  to  you 
sooner.  She  would  have  invited  you  home  on  a  visit 
twenty  years  and  more  ago,  but  she  lost  your  address. 
She  might  have  found  your  address  long  ago,  but  she 
did  not  try,  for  she  was  deluded  into  loving  a  spurious 
son.  And  now  that  she  has  found  you,  she  claims 
16 


«63  TANCIIEDI. 

you   all   for  herself,     Come  home,  my  darling,  come 
home  to  your  waiting  Mother 

ALICE  TANCREDI. 

Nate  returned  without  the  son,  but  with  a  note 
which  read  : 

Dearest    Mother  :     A    few    more    hours    cannot 
seriously  add  to  the  long,  bitter  years  of  our  separa- 
tion and  bereavement.     I  shall  visit  you  at  3  P.M. 
Your  son, 

C.  TANCKEDI. 

She  was  disappointed  and  distressed  at  his  delay, 
but  long  experience  in  both,  had  tempered  her  heart 
to  endurance.  To  while  away  the  time,  she  got  out 
the  relics  restored  to  her  by  Nate  Jaekman,  and  was 
engaged  in  a  mother's  homage  to  her  secret  gods, 
when  she  felt  a  footfall  on  the  carpet.  Before  she 
could  see  who  it  was,  a  man's  figure  knelt  at  her  feet, 
a  curly  head  bowed  itself  in  her  lap,  and  a  musical 
voice  uttered  the  single  word,  "  Mother !" 

"  Charles,  my  darling  son  1" 

At  last  the  dark  waters  lit  up  with  a  mother's  love. 
After  years  of  exile  and  yearning,  the  lost  child  was 
restored  to  that  being  most  worthy  of  man's  homage, 
a  good  mother. 


TANCREDI.  863 

Cliarlus  Tancrcdi  and  Chnrlotte  Daval  were  mar- 
ried. They  passed  a  week  of  the  honeymoon  at  the 
Duval  mansion,  near  the  old  mill.  The  Rellims,  and 
Liftals,  arid  Bowlers,  and  Tobbys  gazed  with  guilty 
and  mortified  awe  on  the  great  hero  as  he  passed  them 
unnoticed  by ;  his  high  lineage  and  his  celebrity  had 
penetrated  even  their  asinine  ears. 

What  more  need  be  said?  Only  this — Jarl  and 
Nate  !  They  are  worthy  of  imitation. 


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MRS.  MARY  J.  HOLMES'  WORKS. 


TEMPEST  AND  SUNSHINE. 
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her 


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CHARLES   DICKENS'   WORKS. 

A  NEW        ftQE        EDITION. 


Among  the  many  editions  of  the  works  of  th.s  greatest  of 
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MABRIED  AND  UNMAEKISD  LADIES. 
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III.—  Arts  of  Writing,  Reading,  and 

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HSBMawfl 


